


Run Away To Me

by KarinaMay



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, background beauyasha, background fjolly, it's gonna be a long one, other characters will definitely be showing up, soltryce academy people are in this too just fyi, we're doing two AUs at the same time idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarinaMay/pseuds/KarinaMay
Summary: It had been three weeks, fifteen hours and forty minutes since Caleb had arrived in Rosohna. A new city in a new country, hopefully far enough away from a forgotten past for it to never catch up with him again. He has a new life now, at a new school, with a new kind of magic, and new kinds of people. New kinds of friends.It had been two weeks, four days and nineteen hours since Caleb had met Jester Lavorre. Not that he was keeping count. His head had just done that, without his consent. The little blue tiefling girl had wormed her way into his brain and settled in comfortably, not unlike the way she'd curl up in the window seat of The Blooming Grove Tea Shop.Not that Caleb spent a lot of time thinking about the way she'd sip her tea and draw in her sketchbook. That'd be a ridiculous waste of time.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 64
Kudos: 125





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Ahum. Guys I'm doing it I'm doing a multichapter. I'm just a sucker for a college AU. 
> 
> Also no smut from me for now I guess. If there is any in future chapters I'll tag accordingly.

It had been three weeks, fifteen hours and forty minutes since Caleb had arrived in Rosohna. Even now, he still hadn’t completely gotten used to the eternal magical night sky that shaded the city from sunlight all hours of the day. As someone who was able to tell the time close to perfectly under normal circumstances, it had made him uneasy at first. He didn’t like _not knowing_ . He could _estimate_ , of course, but Caleb didn’t like words like ‘probably’ and ‘perhaps’, and would much prefer to never use them. It was a small comfort that he’d ended up living so near the clock tower that stood proudly atop the gate that connected the Gallimaufry district to the Firmaments. He rose every day as the clock struck seven in the morning, the clear notes echoing through the quiet streets. 

Caleb was usually awake well before his flatmate, Nott. He’d learned by now that she wasn’t a morning person, and should be left alone until at least ten in the morning unless you wanted something to be thrown at your head at high velocity with terrifying accuracy. He could hear her soft snores now through the door that led to her bedroom. It had taken both of them the first week to get used to one another - the living arrangement had been the result of a strange coïncidence as Caleb had stumbled into The Blooming Grove tea shop, weary from travel and new in a strange city, just as Nott had been complaining to the owner about how hard it was to find a decent flatmate. 

Caleb didn’t know if he’d use the word ‘trust’ yet in reference to the little goblin - as he wasn’t sure he’d ever use the word again at all - but they got along surprisingly well. Their shared interest in alchemy made for a good topic of conversation, and Nott’s strange sense of humor had brought a smile to Caleb’s lips for the first time in what must’ve been months, if not a year. All in all, living with her had been a good thing so far, Caleb thought, as he got dressed. 

He looked briefly at himself in the cracked glass of the small mirror that Nott had balanced against the wall on the countertop. He’d caught her once, staring at her reflection, tears staining her big yellow eyes as she held her face in her hands. When she’d noticed him, she’d hissed at him ‘you didn’t see that’, before disappearing into her room for the next thirty-six hours. 

Caleb didn’t cry at his reflection in the mirror. It was rather much like looking at a stranger. A stranger with pale, hollow cheeks, dark circles ever present under his eyes, with long, messy hair hanging around his face, and a messier beard there to hide a prominent jawline and a dimpled chin. Any trace of confidence that may have ever graced those features had disappeared, along with any other part of him that might have been considered handsome by some. 

Caleb shook his head at his reflection and pulled on his boots. 

He stepped out into the third floor hallway and nearly bumped into his next door neighbor.

“Oh, ‘scuse me,” Fjord said, stepping aside just in time as Caleb walked through the door. 

“Entschuldigung,” Caleb replied reflexively. “I mean - sorry. Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Fjord said good-naturedly. “Lemme guess, you also have an early shift?”

Caleb followed a few steps behind the half orc as they both made their way down the narrow staircase. 

“Yes,” Caleb replied curtly. 

“You work at The Blooming Grove, right?” Fjord asked.

“Yes,” Caleb said again, as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. 

“I know the guy who owns the place,” Fjord continued, either oblivious to Caleb’s discomfort, or trying to break through it. “Caduceus, he’s a nice guy. Very - chill to talk to. Good at giving advice and all that.”

“Ja, I guess,” Caleb said. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs and pushed out the front door into the quiet morning streets of Rosohna. 

“Well, have a nice day, Caleb,” Fjord said, turning right toward the Firmaments. 

“You too,” Caleb said quietly, standing frozen outside the door for a moment. When Fjord had disappeared from sight, Caleb glanced around the street for a moment, eyes gliding over the closed shutters, the shadowed alleys before he took a deep breath and turned left on his way to The Blooming Grove. He got there just before eight, nodded good morning at Caduceus, who thankfully didn’t insist on small talk, and settled into the now familiar routine of opening up the tea shop. 

* * *

It had been three weeks, twelve hours and forty minutes since Caleb had arrived in Rosohna. It had been two weeks, four days and nineteen hours since Caleb had met Jester Lavorre. He hadn’t meant to count the weeks, or the days, let alone hours and the minutes since it had happened, but he had. The information had wormed its way into his brain without his consent, beyond his control, and nestled itself into a corner quite comfortably, not unlike the way Jester would nestle herself into the window seat of _her_ table in the corner of the tea shop. She came into the shop almost every day. She’d stay for any period of time between twenty minutes up to four hours. She either came alone to draw in her sketchbook, brows furrowed in concentration, or she’d bring her friend Beauregard, whom she’d have loud conversations with, her twinkling laugh filling the usually quiet shop with a spark of joy. 

On Caleb’s first day working in the shop, she and Beau had come in around noon for tea and scones, and in spite of Caleb’s clear awkwardness, Jester had been the first one to start a conversation with him. 

_“You’re new here, aren’t you?”_

_“Ja, um, yes, I am. Hallo, I’m Caleb,” Caleb replied._

_“Hiya, my name’s Jester, this is my roommate, Beau. Don’t worry she’s not angry that’s just her normal face. How long have you been in Rohsona?”_

_Two days, seventeen hours, forty minutes, Caleb’s brain calculated. “About a week,” Caleb replied out loud. It had taken a while for him to figure out people didn’t usually appreciate the weird accuracy of his telling of time._

_Jester smiled excitedly. “Oooooh, so everything must be pretty new, huh? Where are you from?”_

_“Rexxentrum,” Caleb answered, fidgetting with the string of his apron behind his back._

_“That’s real far! I’m from Nicodranes. Do you like it here?”_

_Caleb shrugged. “Sure.”_

_“Have you made any friends yet?” she asked, putting three sugar cubes into her tea._

_“Um,” Caleb hesitated, heat rising to his cheeks._

_“Excellent! We’ll be your first friends, Caleb. Welcome to Rohsona.”_

Jester came bounding into the shop now, looking back and laughing at Beau, who was talking animatedly about something or another. She always brought a shock of colour to the muted interior of The Blooming Grove, and the slight bounce of her blue curls from the corner of his eyes was usually enough to alert him to her presence if she hadn’t already announced her arrival another way already. 

“Caduceus!” Jester greeted happily. Even though she came almost every day, she always made a point of greeting Caduceus like an old friend she hadn’t seen in ages, hugging the almost two feet taller firbolg tightly, standing on her tiptoes. 

“Hey Jester,” Caduceus replied, returning the hug easily. 

They exchanged a few pleasantries before Caduceus disappeared through the back door into the small garden behind the tea shop where he kept his herbs, leaving Caleb to tend to the shop by himself. He did this often, and though Caleb had been anxious the first couple times, he’d since learned to see it as a sign of trust. 

Caleb waited a moment, busying himself by dusting a few stray tea leaves from the countertop as Jester and Beau settled in at their table, and walked over.

“Hiya Caleb,” Jester said, smiling bright as he approached. 

“Hallo,” Caleb replied, lips curling upward just a bit. 

“Hey,” Beau said, nodding up at him, arms folded across her chest as she leaned back against the soft pillows of the window seat. 

“I’ll have… a chai tea, and an apple cinnamon cupcake,” Jester said. “Beau will take a peppermint tea, I’m sure -”

“Yeah.”

“- and why don’t you get a tea for yourself as well?” Jester concluded. 

“I - I’m working, I shouldn’t-”

“We’re the only people here,” Jester pointed out. “If someone else comes in you can just get up. Come ooooon, Caleb, it’s on me. I’ve got something I need to ask you. It’s _really_ important.” She put on her most dazzling smile.

Caleb eyed her suspiciously for a moment.

“She’s harmless,” Beau offered, half a grin on her lips. “Usually.”

“All right,” Caleb said slowly. “I’ll be just a moment.”

As Caleb prepared the order - and a black tea for himself - he couldn’t help but glance back up at the table a couple of times. Jester was talking animatedly to Beau now, leaning forward, graceful hands weaving through the air to punctuate what she was saying. Something fluttered in his chest, and Caleb tried to shake the feeling, actually shaking his hands out in the air to steady himself. It was ridiculous. He’d known the tiefling girl for hardly three weeks. Sure, she was cute, and annoyingly disarmingly charming, but he should know better than let himself be pulled in by that. He _knew_ better. He’d learned to be better. He was here in Rosohna for one reason, and that reason was _not_ Jester Lavorre, and he should not let her distract him from his goal. 

He placed the order on their table before sinking down hesitantly on the low chair across the table from them, wrapping his hands around the steaming cup of black tea.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow,” Jester announced, eyes shining with excitement. “I’m turning twenty-one.”

“Happy early birthday,” Caleb said, fixing his eyes on his tea. 

“So I’m having a party tonight,” Jester continued. “And you should come. I mean, you don’t really look like a person who goes to a lot of parties - no offense - but I promise it’ll be really fun! And it’ll be a great way to make some more friends in the city. We have some really cool friends, I promise.” 

Caleb let out a single, humorless chuckle. “Thank you for the invite, Jester, but you’re right: I’m not really someone who goes to… parties…”

“Exactly, so you should come to mine,” Jester said. “It’ll be a good change of pace.”

Beauregard laughed softly in her corner. 

“I really just-” Caleb started.

“Come on, Caleb,” Jester interrupted, her accent lingering on his name, drawing it out. “Please? It’s my twenty-first birthday. I want all my friends to be there. You’re my friend, right?” 

Caleb dared a glance at her over the brim of his teacup and immediately regretted the decision. She was looking at him with wide eyes, pouting slightly, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed the smile she was hiding. Caleb was sure it was a look that had gotten her most things she’d asked for in her life, and she knew it too. 

Caleb sighed. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Yes!” Jester exclaimed. “It’ll be wonderful, I promise. Do you know The Fletching And Moondrop?” 

“Isn’t that a theatre?” Caleb asked, his mind already tracing the route it would take to get there from his home.

Jester nodded enthusiastically. “One of our friends works there. There’s no show tonight, but the bar is always open and there’s always music, and a lot of the performers still hang out there anyway. It’s super cool. Also Beau has like a giant crush on the bouncer.”

“I do _not,_ ” Beau said, mixing into the conversation for the first time. 

“She makes you _stutter_ ,” Jester countered. 

“She’s cool, that’s all,” Beau sputtered. 

As the two started bickering about the matter, Caleb excused himself from the conversation to return to his work. In his mind he was going over the now looming matter of a _party._ The list of cons seemed endless, while the only pro seemed to somehow weigh a lot heavier than it should: it would make Jester smile. 

_That’s adorable, Bren,_ Astrid’s voice suddenly sounded through his mind. _Stupid, but adorable._

“Shut up,” Caleb hissed under his breath. 

“Well, I didn’t say anything yet,” Caduceus said, from behind him. “But if you’re more comfortable with silence, I understand.” 

“No, no,” Caleb said quickly, looking up at him. “Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Caduceus smiled gently. “I figured. It’s okay, you know, to talk to people who aren’t there sometimes. It can help clear your mind.”

“Right,” Caleb said, unsure what else to say. He’d only known Caduceus for a short time, but it was clear that he was more perceptive than most, and lying to him was hardly any use. 

“For what it’s worth,” Caduceus said. “I think it would do you good to go tonight. You deserve to have some fun for once, too, mister Caleb.”

Caleb shot an uneasy glance across the cafe at where Jester and Beau were still chatting and laughing, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings. 

“I don’t really like people,” Caleb said to Caduceus. 

“I know,” the firbolg replied. “But you like these people. Or one of them, at least. They’re good people. And good friends to have.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “You know them well?” 

“I know Beau and Jester the best,” Caduceus said, as he poured himself a cup of chamomile tea. “And their friend Fjord. The others are a bit more distant, but they seem nice.”

“Will you be going then?” Caleb asked. “Tonight, I mean.”

“Of course,” Caduceus said, smiling. “She’s a friend. And it’s her twenty-first birthday. It’s clearly important to her, so of course I will be there.”

Caleb nodded, unsure what else to say. 

“Think about it, mister Caleb,” Caduceus said. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah? We're doing this I guess? Multichapter commitment let's go!
> 
> I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this either in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'd love to see you for the next chapter. 
> 
> -X


	2. Twenty-one Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Caleb attends a birthday party, and Jester learns about one of his hidden talents.

It had been three weeks, one day, five hours and forty minutes since Caleb had arrived in Rosohna, but it must’ve been over an entire year and at least another three months since Caleb had gone to a damn birthday party. In the end it had been Nott who had convinced him to go. Mostly because she herself wanted to go, too. Not that she’d ever met Jester, but the idea of going to a bar, having drinks and having fun seemed a lot more appealing to her than it did to Caleb. At least he wouldn’t be arriving alone.

“Did you brush your hair?” Nott asked, eying him suspiciously as Caleb shrugged on his tattered coat. 

“I brushed it  _ this morning _ ,” Caleb replied, pointedly wrapping his scarf around his neck and making sure it covered the lower half of his face as well, hiding his cheeks as they flushed pink. 

“Well, you look handsome,” Nott said, shrugging. She herself had changed from her usual layers of grey and black into a yellow dress Caleb had never seen before. It was clearly precious to her, though, judging from the way she carefully smoothed out the skirt after pulling on her heavy leather jacket. 

Caleb quietly shook his head at her remark, glanced at himself in the mirror again. 

No words in his head this time, just Eodwulf’s soft, condescending chuckle echoing in the back of his mind. Caleb shook his hands and flexed them a few times before shoving them into his pockets. 

“Right, let’s go,” he said to Nott, who was already waiting at the door. 

Nights in Rosohna turned cold quickly, though it was a different cold than Caleb was used to from his home. Rexxentrum saw grey skies, and long days of mist and drizzle almost all year round, the cold seeping into your clothes and into your bones slowly throughout the day. Days in Rosohna were warmer, the air dry. The cold at night came more suddenly, usually paired with an icy wind that seemed to pick up in the early hours of the evening. He shivered now, tucking his coat tighter around his chest. 

The Fletching And Moondrop theatre was located on the eastern side of the Gallimaufry district, about a twenty minute walk from their flat. Along the way Nott chatted to Caleb about the start of the semester this Miresen. She had a job as a lab assistant in the alchemy department, and she seemed to be excited to be returning to work. Caleb listened with interest as she talked about the university. He was nervous about returning to academic life, to say the least. It hadn’t brought him much good in the past, and his nightmares of Soltryce Academy classrooms had started becoming more and more frequent as the start of the semester neared. On the other hand, Caleb felt excited. He couldn’t help looking forward to learning again, to entering a whole world of new knowledge, new _ magic _ he knew nothing about. 

“I think this is it,” Nott said, coming to a sudden halt. 

They were standing in front of a tall building, a story higher than most in this part of town, the front of which had been decorated top to bottom with an impressive mural, depicting a stylized image of the moon, bright yellow, with a contemplative smile on her face as she looked down over the sea painted beneath. In the middle of the sea lay a small island, right in the middle of the building, stretching out just beside and behind the double front door that led into the building. Soft warm light peaked through the windows from behind thick curtains, and, though sounding somewhat muffled, it was clear there was music being played inside. 

“I think you’re right,” Caleb agreed. 

Nott started walking toward the door, but Caleb stood frozen in the street for a moment. 

“You coming, Cay?” Nott asked, looking back. 

“Ja,” Caleb said. He took a deep breath, focussing on the feeling of the cold night air as it filled his lungs. It would be fine. He would be fine. 

They pushed through the door together, stepping into the warm interior of a slightly cramped hallway. There was a narrow staircase that led up to the second floor, currently closed off by a somewhat tattered looking red ribbon. The coat rack next to the staircase was already looking like it was about to tip over from the amount of coats and scarves that were hanging from it. On the left of the hallway, a narrow archway led into what Caleb presumed to be the bar area. Next to it stood a woman, not more than a few inches taller than Caleb, but with far broader shoulders, the loose black knit sweater pulled tight around her arms crossed over her chest. She was leaning back against the wall, one feet planted firmly on the floor, the other pulled up against it. She regarded Caleb and Nott silently, her gaze piercing from behind the curtain of long, loose hair that faded from black to white. 

“Gutte - Good evening,” Caleb said. “We - ahum - we’re looking for Jester Lavorre. Do you know if she’s here?”

The woman’s gaze seemed to soften for a moment, and she nodded. “Yes, you’re in the right place. Please leave any weaponry over there in that crate if you’re carrying.”

Caleb shook his head, but Nott made a face before reluctantly shuffling over to the crate hidden behind the coat rack and threw her tiny crossbow in there. 

“You better make sure no one touches it,” Nott said, glaring up at the bouncer. 

The bouncer actually smiled now, an amused grin appearing on her lips. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll take good care of your things.”

“Hmpf,” Nott huffed. 

Caleb smiled carefully at the bouncer, who pulled open the curtain that hung in front of the archway that led into the bar. Caleb went through first, halting for a moment as he stepped into the loudest, most crowded space he’d been in in months. He scanned the crowd, his eyes moving from face to face, examining all the current patrons inside before a loud squeal shook him out of his concentration.

“Caleb!” Jester’s voice pierced through the noise and the music. 

Caleb glanced in the direction of her voice. Jester was skipping through the small crowd on the dance floor, moving gracefully past the twirling couples. The ruffles of her midnight blue skirt swirled around her legs, her long sleeves danced like wings behind her. The smile playing on her lips was dazzling, and for a moment all Caleb could do was stare. He managed to get himself together just in time before she met them by the entryway. 

“I’m so glad you came,” Jester said. She was swaying slightly to the melody of the music, her tail swishing behind her. “Beau didn’t think you would. I told her she was wrong, though. Oh - and you brought a friend! Hi, I’m Jester!”

“Hi,” Nott said, seemingly a little taken aback by the warm welcome. “I’m Nott. The Brave. Nott the Brave. There’s no comma.”

“Hi Nott The Brave,” Jester said. “Come on let’s go back to everyone else, we’re all complete now - well, except Yasha, but she’s still working, so we can’t really wait for her.” 

Jester rambled on as Caleb and Nott followed her back through the crowd to the back of the room, where a group of people sat gathered around a large table, decorated with ribbons and flowers, with carefully crafted papers lanterns dangling from the ceiling above, lighting up purple banner hanging from the wall behind that had ‘Happy Birthday Jester’ painted on it in swirling pink cursive. 

Caleb felt a wave of relief rush through him when he realized he actually knew most of the people at the table. 

Caduceus was sitting in the corner, smiling as he listened intently while Fjord talked to him, the half orc leaning back comfortably in his chair, grinning as he spun his tale. On Caduceus’s other side sat a purple tiefling Caleb had only met in passing once, though the meeting in the hallway of their building had made a lasting impression on Caleb, to put it mildly. Mollymauk Tealeaf was Fjord’s roommate, and the one time Caleb had seen him had been when he was walking out of his door early in the morning to go to work. Mollymauk had been leaning casually against the doorframe, dressed in nothing but a thin sheet that left less than nothing to the imagination, as he waved goodbye to a pretty drow girl who had rushed off down the stairs as soon as Caleb had appeared. ‘‘Mornin’ neighbour,’ was all Mollymauk had said, grinning before spinning around with a flourish and closing the door behind him. The only reason Caleb actually knew the tiefling’s name was because Nott had told him. ‘He’s interesting,’ she’d said, after careful consideration. 

Mollymauk was leaning over the table, talking to a girl Caleb didn’t know. She had dark skin, covered in golden freckles that shimmered every time she moved, and her white blond hair spilled down her shoulders in long waves. She was looking at Mollymauk, wide-eyed as he talked to her, gesturing at the cards laid out between them. 

Beauregard currently wasn’t mixed in the goings on at the table, rather leaning back in her chair, making quick work of a large tankard of ale while she observed the two conversations at the same time. 

“Everyone, this is Caleb,” Jester announced when they reached the table. “Though I guess most of you already knew that.”

Caleb felt the blood rush to his cheeks as suddenly all eyes at the table were fixed on the newcomers. Caduceus offered him a gentle, reassuring smile. 

“And this is Caleb’s friend, Nott,” Jester added. “So anyway, we’re complete now. I’m so glad you’re all here.”

Jester sat down next to Beau, leaving two empty seats between herself and Fjord. Caleb hesitantly moved toward the chair next to Fjord, but Nott cut him off, jumping onto the chair before him and grinning at him mischievously over his shoulder. Caleb wormed himself into the chair next to her.

“‘Evening, neighbour,” Mollymauk said with a wink. “I hope I didn’t scare you last time we met. Name’s Mollymauk Tealeaf, but most people call me Molly.” He held out his hand across the table.

“Caleb Widogast,” Caleb said, shaking Molly’s hand curtly. 

“Well, mister Widogast,” Molly said. “Welcome to The Fletching and Moondrop Theatre. Or as I like to call it: home.”

* * *

Rounds of drinks were had and Caleb surprised himself with how easily he mixed into the conversation at the table. He was actually genuinely interested to learn a little about the colourful party at the table, though he was reluctant in the information he offered about himself. He stuck to the basics - originally from the Zemni Fields in the Empire, came to Rosohna to study dunamancy - and none of the others ever pressured him to share more. 

More rounds of drinks went by, and Caleb relaxed more into his chair as a comfortable haze settled over his mind. On his right, Jester had been chatting to Beau and Reani most of the night, though occasionally leaning over the table to talk to the rest of her guests. When she did, she moved considerably closer to Caleb, her shoulder bumping against his arm now and again as she talked animatedly. 

“So, Caleb,” Jester said, just as Caleb finished his ale. “How are you enjoying my birthday party?”

She leaned closer to him now again, turning in her chair so her knees bumped against his as she focussed her full attention on him. 

“I am enjoying myself,” Caleb replied, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Thank you for the invite.”

“You’re so welcome,” Jester beamed at him. “I’m really glad - I was worried - Caduceus told me you don’t really like crowded places all that much, and I thought maybe you’d be uncomfortable, but you seem to be doing all right.”

“Ja, I am,” Caleb said truthfully. “It’s been a while. I’m not very sociable these days.”

“Isn’t that going to be hard when classes start?” Jester asked. “There’s a  _ lot  _ of people at the university. Won’t you hate it?”

She seemed genuinely concerned about him, violet eyes serious under her furrowed brow. Gods it was suddenly warm in this place. Caleb pulled the scarf he was still wearing a little looser. 

“I’ll be fine,” Caleb answered. “The university is pretty anonymous. It’s not that I don’t like crowds, per se, I just don’t like-”  _ people knowing me _ “- attention.” 

“Well that’s a shame,” Jester said, a smile appearing back on her lips. 

Caleb, emboldened by quite a large amount of alcohol, turned to her in his chair a bit more, purposely leaning his knee against hers now. “Why is that?”

“It’s a shame you don’t like attention,” Jester repeated. “Because you’ve certainly caught mine, Caleb Widogast.”

The air around Caleb seemed to grow even hotter, and he glanced around the table. No one seemed to be paying their conversation much mind, though Caleb didn’t entirely trust that both Beau and Nott weren’t at least attempting to listen in. 

“Time for a dance, methinks,” Molly announced loudly. “How about it Beau?”

“Ugh, fine,” Beau replied, pushing herself up out of her chair. “Just the one though.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop whining,” Molly said, practically climbing over Reani to escape from behind the table. “You’re the best dancer currently available and I will not be turned down.”

“Hey!” Jester protested loudly. 

“I said ‘available’, darling,” Molly said, already turned away and starting to drag Beau with him to the dance floor. 

All eyes at the table turned on the two of them as they came together on the dancefloor, the two of them a flurry of colour amidst the crowd, which parted as they occupied the centre of the space. Caleb was hardly shocked to find Molly was a good dancer as he seemed to have enough flair and charisma for three people rather than one, but he was genuinely surprised to see Beau was indeed quite good as well. She moved with practiced precision and fluidity - which was even more impressive considering how much she’d been drinking - and the way she moved formed a sharp contrast with her usual standoffish attitude. 

The music changed to a slower piece, and even though the sound and feeling were different, more whimsical, the three fourths of the waltz rhythm were familiar and almost comforting in a way.

“I used to go dancing,” Caled said, eyes still fixed on the swaying couples on the dancefloor. The words had left his mouth before he’d fully registered them. He glanced back at Jester just in time to see her eyes snap to his and a wide smile spreading on her lips, and he silently cursed his intoxicated mind thrice over for sharing such trivial but somehow personal information.

“Reall? Are you a good dancer, Caleb?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat, already about to get up.

“No, no, I just know the waltz, a little bit,” Caleb answered quickly. “I used to go with - someone. She was the one that  _ could  _ dance.”

“Well,” Jester said slowly, giving him a once-over. “I happen to be an  _ amazing  _ dancer as well. So you can just follow my lead.”

She held out her hand to him. Caleb looked at it hesitantly. 

“Please?” Jester added, dragging the word out, accent thick, as she batted her eyelids at him.

Gods damn whoever had thrown Jester Lavorre into his life. 

“Sure,” Caleb said, taking her hand. “But consider yourself warned.”

Jester’s smile grew even wider and she got up quickly, dragging him with her. She spun around to face him on the edge of the dancefloor and Caleb suppressed a gasp as she stepped up to him, moving fully into his space. She reached for his hand again, lacing their fingers together, and Caleb hesitantly put his hand at the small of her back. She tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder and then they started moving.

Caleb considered it a small miracle that he remembered how to dance at all, but as soon as Jester stepped backward, his muscle memory kicked in, and he started moving without thinking. Which was a good thing, considering he now didn’t only have the alcohol clouding his mind to contend with, but also Jester’s general proximity. 

This close, their height difference suddenly came into play: even on her high heeled boots, the top of Jester’s head only reached his chin, and she was gazing up at him. Her smile was dazzling, her amethyst eyes sparkling amidst the blue curls that danced around her face as they spun slow circles around the edge of the dancefloor. 

Caleb pressed his hand a bit more firmly against the small of her back as he remembered how to move, slowly taking over the lead of their waltz as he gained confidence, and his palm almost seemed to be burning where it lay on her back. 

“You  _ are  _ a good dancer,” Jester said as she allowed him to pull her along now. 

Caleb blushed again. “Not so much, really. The waltz makes sense. Like math, really.”

Jester scrunched her nose quite adorably. “Math kinda sucks though. And dancing is fun. Or at least, I think it’s fun. Are you having fun, too, Caleb?”

“Ja,” Caleb breathed, “Ja, I am.”

Caleb wasn’t sure it was the alcohol, the spinning, or the scent of cinnamon and blueberry muffins and just  _ Jester _ right under his nose, or a combination of the three, but by the time the song came to an end he was out of breath and slightly lightheaded. He spun Jester slowly under his arm and walked her back to the edge of the dancefloor.

“Danke,” Caleb said, inclining his head at her with a smile. 

“You’re welcome,” Jester said, giggling as she sank down into a mock-curtsey. 

On the edge of his hearing, Caleb heard one of the clock towers outside hit midnight. It had been three weeks, one day, eight hours and forty minutes since Caleb had arrived in Rosohna, but right now there was something more important to count. 

“You hear that?” Caleb asked Jester in the short silence between songs. 

She cocked her head to the side as she listened and then she nodded, grinning.

“Happy birthday, Jester Lavorre,” Caleb said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd just squeeze the second chapter in there before the end of the year. I hope 2021 is going to be a better one for all of us, but I gotta say the CR community really helped me get this through this year so thanks guys <3
> 
> As always I'd really love to hear your thoughts in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com)
> 
> I hope to see you in the next year!
> 
> -X


	3. Darkness And Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Caleb finds himself at a sleepover where he isn't the only insomniac.

The Fletching And Moondrop closed up two hours later, and the now nine of them, joined by bouncer Yasha, burst into the streets, laughing and shouting, leaning on each other, a wobbling mess of warmth and light. They were  _ too  _ loud,  _ too  _ noticeable in the quiet streets of Rosohna by night, but for the moment, Caleb’s anxiety seemed to be pushed to the back of his mind, low on his list of priorities, ways down from a more pressing, more interesting matter: he felt happy. Sure, there was a lingering knot in his stomach, and that anxious buzzing in his chest never really went away, but he was smiling. Genuinely smiling. 

Nott was hanging off his arm, stumbling along with him as she chatted to Jester about the start of the semester. Jester herself was starting her second year as a Fine Arts student at the university, so she would be in a different building than Caleb and Nott, but they were already making plans to meet up for lunch. 

“Wait, wa-wait,” Caleb suddenly said, recognizing the route they were walking. “Nott, we have to go left here.”

“What, no, you’re coming with us,” Jester said. 

“I - what?” Caleb asked, glancing down at Nott, who was grinning at him.

“Have you never heard of a slumber party, Caleb?” Jester asked innocently. “Nott is coming, isn’t that right, Nott?”

“Yup,” Nott replied. 

“So I guess if you  _ really  _ wanna go home, you could, by yourself. On my birthday,” Jester continued. 

She skipped around Nott and him, falling into step on his other side. Her arm brushed against his as she leaned in, and Caleb shivered a little, though not from the cold night air surrounding them. In fact he was starting to feel rather warm again. 

“Unless you’d be uncomfortable, of course,” Jester said, more softly. “But I’d love it if you’d come with us.”

“Ja, okay,” Caleb said, before he could really think about it. 

Jester and Beau lived a little further along Vidrinath Street. Their apartment was on the third floor of a building that looked much nicer than the one Caleb, Nott, Fjord and Molly lived in. Even the hallway was more spacious, polished dark wooden floors and staircases leading them past lilac painted walls. 

It took Beau a moment to manage to get her key out of her pocket, and another moment then to manage to actually get it into the lock and turn it, but then they all practically fell through the door of the apartment. Caleb was the last one inside, closing the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, just over the threshold, taking in the room he now found himself in. 

The apartment was Jester’s, or rather, Jester’s mother’s, and it was quite a grand home for two girls living on their own in their early twenties. The furniture was simple but refined and there were many small trinkets covering almost every bit of flat surface in the room, but the most striking thing about the place were the walls. The entire room was a mural. All around them the walls of the living room displayed a cityscape, a mess of vibrant coloured rooftopped houses of all shapes and sizes along winding streets. On one side the city was backed by a wild mountain range painted in lush greens, on the other, the city was surrounded by the bright, sparkling blue of the Lucidian Ocean. 

Caleb had never in his life been to Nicodranas but he was willing to bet a lot that this was a  _ very  _ close approximation of what the city looked like. 

Everyone but Nott and Caleb fell into what looked like a very practiced routine. Mattresses were dragged from the two bedrooms into the living room and a giant bed was built on the floor between the two couches. 

“Caleb, you can have one of the couches,” Jester said softly, as she handed him a blanket. 

Caleb gave her a grateful smile and climbed over Nott and Raeni onto the moss coloured sofa. He shrugged off his coat and threw the blanket over himself. Slowly the atmosphere in the room became more and more peaceful as they all settled. From his vantage point on the couch, Caleb could see everyone else. Caduceus was lying on the other couch, too tall to fit, with his feet dangling over the edge, already asleep. Fjord was on the far edge of the two mattresses, on his back, talking softly to Molly, who was on his stomach next to him, leaning on his hands looking down at him, tail swishing in the air behind him. 

Next to Molly was Yasha, on her side, smiling as Beau talked to her in the familiar too-loud whisper of someone drunk trying to be quiet. On Beau’s other side was Reani, still awake but quiet, smiling up at the ceiling as she listened to the voices around her. 

Next was Jester, lying on her stomach, chin resting on her folded arms as she talked softly to Nott about a friend of hers Caleb didn’t know. Nott formed the barrier between Caleb and the rest of them. It made him feel safer, having her close. A piece of his new home he’d grown the most familiar with over the past couple of weeks. 

“Caleb?” Nott whispered. 

“Hm?” Caleb replied, looking down at her. 

“Can you cast those lights? They look so nice?” 

Caleb looked over the rest of the group. “I don’t want to keep people awake.”

“They’re quite low lights,” Nott argued quietly. “I think they’re kind of calming, really.”

Behind her Jester propped herself up on her elbows. “You can cast pretty lights?” 

Caleb snorted. “Fine, I’ll cast ‘pretty lights’.” He pulled his hand out from under the blanket, drew a simple arcane symbol in the air and muttered a few words under his breath. Four familiar amber coloured globules of light shot out of his hand and came to hover over the group of them, spinning slowly. 

He watched as Jester rolled onto her back and smiled as her eyes fixed on the lights dancing overhead. 

* * *

It didn’t take long for everyone else to fall asleep. Sleep didn’t come for Caleb, but it didn’t really surprise him. He barely slept in his own bed, let alone in an unfamiliar space. He felt surprisingly at ease, though. He felt comfortable there on the couch, warm under his blanket in this room that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, easily keeping his concentration on his lights as the alcoholic fog slowly cleared from his mind. 

He calculated it was around six in the morning when he started feeling restless. With everyone else still fast asleep, Caleb carefully pushed the blanket off of him and climbed over the back of the couch. He glanced around the room and noticed a room in the back of the kitchen. 

As quietly as he could, he put on his boots and his coat and slipped out the back door onto the small balcony. 

It was still quite cold out - although it was technically past sunrise it took a while longer for the city to really warm up due to eternal night sky shielding the city - but Caleb enjoyed the crisp air filling his lungs. His mind was clear again, though there was a familiar heaviness in the back of his head warning him of the headache about to follow. 

Caleb looked out over the still quiet streets of the Gallimaufry for a while. About ten minutes passed and then the door creaked behind him. Caleb turned to see Jester stepping through the door, carefully closing it behind her again. 

Her curls were a mess. She blinked a few times as the cold hit her face, and she pulled her blanket more tightly around her.

“Morning,” she said, smiling lazily. 

“Morgen,” Caleb replied. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t really slept yet. I watched you get up and I thought you might leave but you didn’t. Did you want to be alone? I can go back inside.”

“No, it’s okay,” Caleb said. “I’m a bad sleeper.”

“Me too,” Jester said. 

Caleb looked at her curiously. There was something weighing on her mind, something probably usually masked by her forcefully cheerful attitude and joking around. 

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” Jester asked, gesturing at the empty streets. “I love it when it’s still so quiet outside. I used to sneak out for sunrise walks in Nicodranas when I was younger, too. I guess it wouldn’t really be a  _ sunrise  _ walk now, but you know…”

“Ja,” Caleb said. “I’d like that.”

They slipped back through the door inside again, and Caleb stood awkwardly for a moment as Jester disappeared into what had to be her bedroom. She came back out a couple of minutes later, now in thick leggings and a knitted jumper that was much too big for her and reached her mid thigh. She’d pulled on a pair of fur lined boots and some fingerless gloves as well.

She shrugged and smiled at him. “It gets really cold here,” she whispered, as they left the apartment, still trying to stay as quiet as they could and not wake anyone else. “I’m not used to it.”

Caleb closed the door behind them. “Well, you are from a much warmer place.”

He followed her down the stairs and into the streets. They started walking down the road quietly in the direction of the Firmaments. As opposed to just a few hours ago, Jester now kept her distance from him. She seemed lost in thought, and Caleb studied her face again. 

“What was her name?” Jester asked after a while, and she looked up at him. “The girl you used to go dancing with.” 

The question came like a punch to his gut, and Caleb was momentarily taken aback. 

“Astrid,” he answered then, surprised by his own honesty.

“Astrid,” Jester repeated, tasting the name in her own accent. “Was she very pretty? She must’ve been.”

“She was to me,” Caleb said. He shoved his hands in his pocket, digging his fingers into his palms, focussing on the stinging feeling. 

“What happened?” Jester asked. 

_ Go on, why don’t you tell her?  _ Astrid’s voice sounded through his mind.  _ You’ve already told her so much anyway. Why not spill all your secrets?  _

“Did she hurt you?” Jester asked, more quietly now. 

Caleb froze in the middle of the streets and closed his eyes for a moment. His heart was racing, his breath high in his chest, and he could feel himself starting to tremble as Astrid’s soft laughter filled his head. 

A rustling sound. Hands on both his arms. Gently, just above his elbows, squeezing ever so slightly. Grounding. Warmth in front of him. A soft, calming voice. 

“Caleb?” Jester’s voice sounded through the laughter. “Caleb open your eyes, it’s okay.”

Caleb pushed through the spiralling thoughts, focussing on the touch on his arms, and he took a few breaths. When he eventually opened his eyes he met Jester’s, wide and full of worry and just a little sad. 

She smiled a little now though, that he was looking at her. “There you are. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. Come on, I want to show you something.”

She stepped back from him and held out her hand, and Caleb reached for it eagerly this time, wanting to hold on to the grounding feeling of her touch a little longer. 

“My mama used to throw me the most amazing birthday parties,” Jester started, as she pulled him along down the street. “She’d take the whole day off from work, she called off all performances and she wouldn’t have any clients, no matter how much they offered, and she’d spend the whole day with me. I got to eat all the pastries I wanted, and she’d let me try on her prettiest dresses - they were way too big for me, of course, but I’d stand in front of the mirror and I’d almost feel as beautiful as her.”

“She sounds wonderful,” Caleb said, imagining a much smaller Jester, bright eyes and rosy cheeks, wobbling around an elegantly decorated room on high heels and in a dress many sizes too big. 

“She is,” Jester sighed. “The best thing was when she’d sing for me.”

“Did you ever sing with her?”

“Sometimes,” Jester said softly. “Mostly it was just her though.”

“You miss her?” Caleb asked. 

Jester bit her lip and nodded. “It’s my first birthday without her. It’s just strange, you know. I spent all my life with her. Before last year I’d never even really left the Chateau. Sure, I snuck out and went into the city with Artie once in a while, but really the Chateau was all I knew for twenty years. Rosohna is wonderful in its own way, but I miss Nicodranas. I miss the sea and I miss the sun. And yes, I miss my mama.”

“Why did you leave?” 

“I had to,” Jester said, suddenly smiling again. “I pulled a prank on a client of mama’s - or, well, Artie and I did, together. Anyway, it was the funniest thing I have  _ ever  _ seen, but we got caught, and he swore he’d have me thrown in jail if he ever saw me in the city again. And mama was scared he actually would, so she arranged for me to go to school here.”

“Will you go back when you’re done?” Caleb asked.

“I’ll go back one day, for sure,” Jester answered. “Have you ever been to the coast, Caleb?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’d never left the Empire before I came here, and it’s pretty landlocked. I didn’t know much of the world beyond the Zemni Fields and Rexxentrum for most of my life.”

“What’s it like there?” 

“Oh, you’d probably hate it, it’s not very warm, and usually rainy,” Caleb said, smiling as she scrunched her nose disapprovingly. “But it’s my home, and as such, I love it very much. Rexxentrum itself is an enormous city, full of life and wonder and so much to learn.” 

“Why did  _ you  _ leave?” 

“I had to,” Caleb said. 

Jester studied his face for a moment, and Caleb averted his eyes, looking ahead instead as they passed through the gates into the Firmaments. 

“Okay,” Jester said then. “Oh! We’re here, come on, I wanted to show you my favourite place in the city!” 

She suddenly pulled him to the right into a narrow alley and pushed through the wooden gate at the end, and suddenly, there in the heart of the city, they stood in a small meadow. It was entirely closed in by the buildings surrounding it, the high walls almost entirely covered in ivy. There was a small pond in the middle of the tall grass, reflecting the artificial moon and stars in the sky. Clusters of fireflies lit up the meadow, dancing in the air in hypnotizing patterns. 

“Are we allowed to be here?” Caleb asked quietly, feeling the urge to whisper. 

“I think so,” Jester whispered back. “No one’s ever sent me away. I come here a lot, whenever I can’t sleep. I asked a woman once who was tending to the roses and she called it a ‘beguinage’. The buildings around here all house the women who have devoted their life to serving the Luxon, that serve at the nearby temple. They also take care of this place, and it’s supposed to be a place of contemplation and respite.”

“It’s very beautiful.” 

“There’s supposed to be a few more around the city, near the other temples, but I haven’t found them yet,” Jester said. “The woman wouldn’t tell me, because you’re supposed to find them yourself, she said. I think she just thought I asked too many questions though. You’re kinda not supposed to talk in here.”

Caleb snorted. “Well, there is no one here right now, so I think we’re good.”

“Come on, let’s sit down.” 

Jester flopped down onto the ground, lying down immediately and almost disappearing in the grass. Caleb sat down in the grass as well, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands, looking up at the magical night sky. 

“The sun is up already, you know,” he said after a while. 

“How do you know?” 

It had been three weeks, one day and fifteen hours since Caleb had arrived in Rosohna. “It’s nearly seven in the morning,” Caleb said. “We - ah - passed the clocktower on our way here. It’s nearly seven, and it’s summer, so the sun’s up.”

“Right,” Jester said, pushing herself up on her elbows to look at him. “I should probably head back soon. Caduceus is probably going to wake up first but gods know I shouldn’t risk Molly and Beau getting into the pantry again.”

“I think I’ll go home,” Caleb said hesitantly. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Jester said. She jumped up easily and brushed some grass off her jumper. “Thank you for coming with me in the first place, Caleb. I had a great time.”

“Ja - eh - I - me too,” Caleb stammered. “Thank you for showing me this place. It’s very special.”

They walked back out the wooden gate and stopped at the end of the alley. Caleb’s fastest route home would be through the Firmaments from here while Jester had to go back the same way they’d come. 

“I’m going that way,” Caleb said, nodding to his right.

Jester grinned. “I know, Caleb.”

“Right, of course, you know this city.” Caleb ran a hand through his hair and looked away a bit awkwardly. “Can you let Nott know I’ve gone home? She gets worried.”

“I will,” Jester said. “Try to get some sleep, Caleb, you look pretty pale. I mean, more than usual.”

“That’d be the hangover,” Caleb said. “How are you doing by the way? You started earlier than I did.”

“Oh, I wasn’t drunk or anything,” Jester said, shrugging. “I don’t drink, like, ever. So I’m good.”

“Right,” Caleb said. “I hadn’t caught that.” 

“Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch, right, in Nott’s office?” 

“Ja, I guess.”

“Good. Take care of yourself, Caleb,” she said, and before he had time to react she pressed a kiss on his cheek and skipped away. 

Caleb raised his hand to his cheek, now burning hot and watched her go for a moment. Then he turned around and slowly started walking home. As he did, he started recounting the previous evening moment by moment, minute by minute. All those little things Jester had done and said suddenly framed differently, by a small little fact that he should have noticed in the first place. She hadn’t been drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while! For my usual standard anyway! I've had _a week_. Anyway I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter I should actually get to some of the college parts of the college AU this is supposed to be XD
> 
> As always I'd really love to hear your thoughts in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com)
> 
> I hope to see you in the next year!
> 
> -X


	4. Eyecatchers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the first day of the academic year is all about making first impressions, and maybe also lasting ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV shifts between Jester and Caleb.

Jester took a step back from the mirror to admire her work. She’d left most of her hair down, but braided two strands into delicate braids to keep it out of her face, and pinned them around the base of her horns with small jewelled pins. She was wearing one of her favourite dresses, dark blue with puffy sleeves that were cinched at her wrists, an accentuated waist and a wide flowy skirt with small pink flowers embroidered on the bottom. She looked cute, Jester concluded, and she smiled at her reflection. She grabbed her bag from the floor and made her way into the kitchen for a quick breakfast.

“You look suspiciously pretty,” Beau said, eying Jester who poured herself a cup of milk. 

“Well, it’s the first day back,” Jester replied. “I want to make a good impression, you know.”

“What, on the teachers who’ve already dealt with you for a year?” Beau asked. “I think that ship has sailed, Jes.”

“It’s a fresh start!” 

“Bullshit,” Beau said. “Wait - no - wait. This isn’t - this isn’t for  _ Caleb,  _ is it?”

Jester felt the blood rush to her cheeks and she pointedly took a bit from her croissant. 

Beau groaned. “Tell me this isn’t going to be like when you had a crush on Fjord.”

“This is different!” Jester exclaimed, before slapping her hands over her mouth.

“There it is,” Beau said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. “He’s kind of a weirdo, though, Jes. And like, real fucking awkward most of the time.”

“Not  _ all  _ the time,” Jester protested. 

Beau shrugged. “Fine, not to you, maybe. Just - you know - be careful. We don’t really know him that well at all. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt, Beau, you really shouldn’t worry so much. Plus, it’s nothing serious anyway,” Jester said, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“Jester, last time you told me it wasn’t ‘anything serious’ and Fjord started dating that Avantika chick, you locked yourself in your room for a week and I’m pretty sure I heard you plotting with Artagan about how to get rid of -”

“Shut it, Beau!” Jester snapped, cheeks burning at the mention of one of her lower moments. “Anyway, like I said, this is  _ different _ . Caleb is different.  _ I _ feel different. And I’m not sure what it is yet, okay? So just let me figure that out first!”

“Okay, okay,” Beau said, holding her hands up. “I’m sorry, I’ll stay out of it, I guess.”

They were quiet for a moment, Beau sipping her coffee, and Jester eating the last few bites of her croissant. Jester looked at Beau carefully through her lashes, studying her best friend’s face. Beau was frowning, looking off to the side out the window, tapping her fingers against her cup, fingers restless the way they always were when she was trying to figure something out, trying to solve something. 

“I’m sorry,” Jester said softly. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“Whatever, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Jester said. “Don’t give me that aloof crap, Beau, I know you pretty well by now.”

Beau sighed and turned back to look at her. “I know you pretty well, too, Jes. I worry about you. But I shouldn’t have called Caleb a weirdo. Or brought up Avantika. So I guess I’m sorry, too.”

Jester smiled and sipped her milk. Beau smiled as well, and grabbed her notebook from the side, flipping through the pages until she reached a blank page and started scribbling. In the distance, the clocktower chimed. 

“Shit!” Jester squeaked. “I’m going to be late!”

She jumped up from her chair, nearly spilling the last bit of milk in her cup all over the table, but she managed to catch it. “Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered as she pulled on her boots as fast as she could, hopping on one foot and trying to balance herself with her tail. When she finally had both of them on, she grabbed her bag and rushed to the door. 

“Good luck with that good first impression, Jes,” Beau said, grinning at her from the kitchen table. 

Jester stuck out her tongue at her friend and ran out the door. 

* * *

Caleb was early - because of course he was, he’d  _ meant _ to be early - and he had settled in one of the window seats that lined the high walls of the main hall of the university building. This building specifically, Caleb had learned, was the oldest one on the university grounds, built mere years after the Lucid Bastion itself. The Institute of Magic, L’Magthere de’Faer, had stunned Caleb into silence the first time he’d set foot within its ancient walls just two weeks ago, and even now he’d known what to expect, he still felt small surrounded by so much history. Caleb was flicking through his notes on the history of dunamancy when he heard the door across the hall click open. He looked up as the door to the lecture hall swung open wide, seemingly with no one behind it who had done the opening, welcoming the awaiting students inside. 

Caleb picked up his book bag with one hand, gathered his notes with his other, and hopped onto the ground. He purposely shook his hair in front of his face a bit more and kept his head down as he made his way through the door and to the back row of the small lecture hall. He sat down in the corner and watched carefully through the curtain of his hair as the other students trickled inside. There was only a handful of them, each of them carefully selected for their potential, except for Caleb. The door closed magically after the twelfth student had entered and Caleb relaxed in his seat a bit; he was the only human amongst the students, at least as far as he could discern. 

“Good morning everyone.” 

Caleb sat up a bit more straight in his seat, focussing his attention on the drow standing at the lectern. He looked young, as young as Caleb, though that could still easily mean he had a whole century on him. He was dressed in long, shimmering purple robes that looked almost regal in Caleb’s eyes. 

“My name is Essek Thelyss,” he started. “If you’re from around these parts, you might be aware of my position as Shadowhand to the Bright Queen. In this room, however, you may address my as Professor Thelyss. In this course I will be teaching you the basics of dunamantic magic. As your schedules show, there are two lectures every week, every Miresen and Whelson from eight until midday. It is recommended to spend time between lectures researching the material, because I can promise you that if you do not, you  _ will  _ fall behind.” 

A soft sigh of relief escaped from Caleb’s lips. This was familiar. This was comfortable. This was something he knew exactly how to handle. It was something he’d missed quite terribly, he realized now. The simple discipline of academic life that he’d loved so much before. 

“Now I am aware you were all selected for this course on ground of your previous experience with the general study of magic, but I do like knowing what exactly I’m working with,” professor Thelyss continued. “So I’ll go down the line, you can introduce yourselves, and show me the most impressive spell you currently are capable of casting. Keep it to benign spells, though, if you please. I would prefer to get through the first day of the semester without someone setting the room on fire.”

Caleb reached into his component pouch and pulled out some dried catmint. He watched as professor Thelyss went down the line of his fellow students. Most of them cast spells familiar to Caleb: Disguise Self, Unseen Servant, Invisibility, and Levitate all got shown off. As Essek moved closer slowly, weaving between the desks. With every spell his classmates cast, Caleb’s doubt grew. When Essek reached the girl sitting in front of Caleb, and she cast Mirror Image, Caleb stuffed the catmint back into his pouch. 

“Well done, Miva,” professor Thelyss told the girl, before turning his attention to Caleb. “And you, what is your name?” 

“Caleb,” Caleb answered. “Caleb Widogast, professor.” 

“All right, mister Widogast, show me what you’ve got.”

Caleb snapped his fingers and his familiar, Frumpkin, appeared on the desk. Professor Thelyss smiled at the Bengal cat and reached out. As per Caleb’s mental instruction, Frumpkin softly bumped his head against the drow’s hand and started purring. 

“Good one,” professor Thelyss said, after petting Frumpkin a moment. His eyes rested on Caleb’s face for a moment, eyes curious, a slight crease between his brows. 

“Thank you,” Caleb replied.

Professor Thelyss made his way back to the lectern, and started talking about the core theory of dunamantic magic. For the next four hours Caleb’s entire mind was occupied with taking in all the information he could, and noting down any loose ends he might be able to research later. The subject was fascinating. When professor Thelyss wrapped up his lecture, a shared sigh of relief went through the class, but Caleb was a little disappointed. He carefully rolled up his notes and put them in his bag. He snapped his fingers and Frumpkin, who’d been sleeping on his desk through the lecture, appeared draped around his shoulders instead. 

“Mister Widogast?” Professor Thelyss called, as Caleb made his way to the door. “Can you wait a moment?” 

Caleb froze on the spot for a moment, and then turned to the drow. “Of course, professor.” He waited quietly as his classmates left the room, and walked over to the lectern. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, per se,” the professor answered, giving Caleb a once over. “I noticed you put away some components when I was making the rounds earlier during the introduction. I was wondering what you were going to cast.”

“I was - it was nothing special,” Caleb said.

“Mister Widogast, I strive to turn each and every one of my students into at the very least capable, but hopefully exemplary dunamantic wizards, I cannot do that for you if I don’t know where your starting point is. I know that standing out in a crowd isn’t for everyone, but I would like to ensure that you do receive the proper education for your level. So what were you going to cast?”

Caleb hesitantly pulled the catmint out of his component pouch again and started casting the spell. Within a moment, a giant cat’s claw appeared in the air next to him. It waved at the professor, who cocked his head to the side and for a moment the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch into a grin.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, looking back to Caleb. “So, how many years did you study at the Soltryce Academy?”

Caleb had sat through many lessons that taught him how to appear calm and unaffected in high stress situations - harsh lessons, cruel lessons, some might even say - and it was only because of them that he managed now to keep his face straight and maintain concentration on his spell while his head was buzzing with panic. 

“Three,” Caleb replied. He’d always prefered deception through the telling of truths, and he got the sense that he was about to make use of that skill again. 

“So why are you here as a first year student? There are exchange programs, many things that could be arranged with a mere letter of recommendation.” 

“I’m no longer tied to the Academy,” Caleb said. “And I doubt they’d recommend me anywhere if I were. I left things a bit of a mess there, you see. That’s why I didn’t want to stand out, as you said. I want a fresh start here, preferably a quiet one.”

“Interesting,” professor Thelyss said. “I usually find students from the Academy particularly fond of the place. But to each their own, I suppose. You are, however, quite a bit ahead of the other students in this class, as I suspected. Seeing as you don’t want to stand out, and I would prefer not to discourage them in their prowess, I will expect you to partake in the lectures at their pace. If you would like, I can give you some extra, more advanced work outside of class, though.”

“Only if it’s no inconvenience,” Caleb said, hesitantly. 

_ You always were a suck-up, _ Eodwulf’s voice sounded in the back of his mind. 

“Nothing terribly bothersome,” the drow said, lips pulling up into something close to a smile yet again. “Let’s just say you… owe me a small favor in return.”

Caleb frowned, letting his eyes rest on the man’s face for a moment. He was supposed to be good at reading people, but something about the professor was making it hard to discern his intent at all, no trace of real emotion in his eyes. Curious. 

“Yes, all right,” Caleb said after a moment. 

“Good, stay behind after the lecture on Whelson again and I’ll have it prepared for you.” 

“Thank you, Herr The- professor Thelyss.”

“Good day, mister Widogast.”

* * *

Jester sat on the desk in Nott’s laboratory, her legs swinging back and forth, looking around the room curiously as Nott prepared them coffee. The coffee pot was balanced precariously on a delicate construction clearly meant for alchemical purposes and not the brewing of hot beverages, but Jester got the feeling this wasn’t the first time it was being mistreated like this. She smiled to herself. 

“So you were late, the teacher is a respective asshole who blames you for a mysterious accident involving a bucket of paint you may or may not have actually caused, and you spent most of your time during the lecture doodling funny pictures into your sketchbook instead of paying attention,” Nott summarized, as she stirred the coffee with a long, purple stained wooden spoon. 

“Yup!” Jester said. 

“And you got let into the second year  _ how _ ?”

“Because I’m like  _ really  _ talented, duh,” Jester answered, just as the door creaked open. Jester looked up and her smile widened as Caleb stepped inside. “Not to mention, I’m super charming, right Caleb?” 

Caleb, clearly taken aback by immediately being pulled into a conversation he had no previous context for, just stared at her a couple seconds. “Ja, sure,” he said then. 

“See?” Jester said, though without looking back at Nott. Instead her eyes followed Caleb as he walked toward where she and Nott were situated, stepping carefully around the alchemical equipment. He looked tired, and his hair was particularly messy today, but he still looked quite handsome, Jester thought. He was without his usual scarf today, and the front lacing of his linen shirt had been loosened a bit, showing off prominent collarbones and just a faint trace of reddish chest hair. His sleeves had crawled up his arms a bit, revealing the white bandages she knew covered the entirety of his forearms. The first time she’d seen them as he’d been working at The Blooming Grove, she’d almost asked what he was hiding underneath them. Almost. Then she’d thought the better of it. She’d learned in recent years that everyone should be allowed to carry their own secrets, like she did hers. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still curious though. 

“You look nice today, Caleb,” Jester said. 

Caleb’s eyes snapped up to her just as he was sitting down, and his face turned a gorgeous shade of pink that Jester immediately wanted to paint. He opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, but Nott interjected. 

“You should pull your hair back, though,” Nott said, pouring coffee into three mismatched cups. “Shame to cover up such a nice face.” 

Caleb murmured something unintelligible and grabbed the cup Nott offered him. 

“Right, Jes?” Nott asked, handing her another steaming cup. 

Jester hummed in agreement as she sipped her incredibly strong coffee. “You do have a handsome face, Caleb. And don’t give me that look; I’m an artist, I know these things.”

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Caleb asked, although Jester was sure she saw a flash of a smile on his lips. One of those rare, shy smiles that made her feel like something was fluttering around in her stomach. 

“Fine,” she said, sighing dramatically. “How was your first lecture? Fun teacher?”

“I’m not sure fun is the right word,” Caleb said. “But professor Thelyss seems very capable.”

“Oh! Hot boi!” Jester said enthusiastically.

“Who?” 

“Hot boi,” Jester repeated. “It’s what most of the students refer to him as. Not to his face though. That’d be a bit stupid, I think, considering he’s like super important and all.”

“Actually some of the faculty also call him that,” Nott added. “Also not to his face, though.”

“Me and a bunch of others tried to convince him to model for our class last year, but he wouldn’t budge. He seems pretty nice though.”

“Right,” Caleb said, processing the information. “So how was your first class?”

“Oh my gosh, let me tell you.” And so Jester launched into a dramatic retelling of her first class with Master Teken’lyl, detailing every terrible aspect of him and his classes, though carefully avoiding the fact that although she’d drawn  _ some _ funny doodles in her sketchbook, she’d spent the majority of her time sketching something else onto another page: a human prince and a tiefling princess, waltzing around an empty ballroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it been three weeks since I updated. Has it really. Oh god. I thought it was less bad than that. I'm sorry XD Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed a little taste of Caleb and Jester's upcoming university life. 
> 
> As always I'd really love to hear your thoughts in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com)
> 
> See you soon(er) (hopefully)!
> 
> -X


	5. Complicated Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some secrets are discovered, some are unknown to the owners themselves, and some are up for trade.

It was just past midnight on the 9th of Sydenstar, marking a full month since Caleb had arrived in Rosohna. He felt unusually calm as he processed the thought that he’d already been in the city for such a long time. There was a danger in that, he knew. As long as he was anxious and on edge, he was paying attention. If he allowed himself to slip too much into placidity, that would be when it would be time to strike. He couldn’t afford to fully sink into the easy contentment his life here had brought: that would simply be reckless.

And yet Caleb felt at ease, walking through the winding streets of the Gallimaufry. They were still quite lively, despite the late hour. It was the weekend, and many people still walked the streets of the lively district, the sounds of music, loud talking and laughing only slightly muffled behind tavern doors. Caleb had grown fond of late night strolls through the city. During the day he had been surrounded by people almost all the time the past week; whether it was just Nott, his fellow students, the patrons at The Blooming Grove, or the colourful group of people he was hesitantly starting to refer to as ‘friends’, it was rare to find a moment where people weren’t talking with or around him. Most nights when he couldn’t sleep, he would study, taking notes on dunamancy by the low glow of his dancing lights, but some nights, like this one, he craved a better distraction from his thoughts. The night life of a big city Rosohna offered him the refreshing combination of fascinating secrets to be discovered, and complete anonymity, the feeling he could walk around for hours on end without anyone ever recognizing or remembering his face. 

Caleb wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, more allowing his mind to wander as his eyes drank in the details of the city, when a small, wooden gate at the end of an alley caught his eye. He turned into the alley, walking up to the gate, and hesitantly looked around for any signs this  _ wasn’t  _ what he thought it was. Then he reached for the handle. 

The gate opened easily, and Caleb pushed through to indeed find himself standing on the edge of a beautiful garden with a pond in the middle, its water still like a mirror, reflecting the night sky above. There was a woman sitting on her knees by the water, a young drow in simple clothes, hands clasped together in silent prayer. Caleb gently closed the gate behind him and quietly sat down in a corner of the garden in the high grass. He closed his eyes, and for a moment allowed himself to imagine a warmth by his side, a hand in his own, a soft voice with a lilting accent, a mischievous giggle. 

_ What is it about her?  _ Astrid’s voice asked. She sounded annoyed, the way she always did when she didn’t understand something right away, like a child that couldn’t quite solve a puzzle by themself. 

_ Go away, Astrid _ . 

_ Talking back, again, Bren? It’s been a while.  _ Caleb’s mind conjured the image of her smirk perfectly, and he snapped his eyes open again, focussing on the garden in front of him, anchoring himself in the space. Tall grass, pond like a mirror, ivy covered walls, pink and yellow roses, bright moon in the artificial night sky. 

He shuddered and stood up abruptly, suddenly aching to be home, in his room, behind a locked door and his silver thread. 

* * *

Caleb was cleaning cups behind the counter, while Caduceus carefully crushed dried herbs and sorted them into different pots and sachets, the two of them quiet as they worked. It had been a slow day in the cafe, one of those days where Caleb would wonder how Caduceus managed to pay rent, let alone pay him his wages. Still, the quiet was comforting. Caduceus wasn’t really one for small talk, didn’t really see the need to feel the air with conversation if there was no immediate point to it, and Caleb appreciated that. He was of the opinion that silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable at all. 

The quiet was violently disrupted as a band of colourful individuals practically fell through the front door, the chimes nearly clanging against the wall due to the force with which the door was slammed open.

“I cannot believe you’ve never taken me here before!” Molly exclaimed to Jester, who had her arm hooked through his. 

“You could have come here by yourself, you know,” Jester replied, pulling him with her toward the counter. “Hi ‘Duceus! Hi Caleb! It’s awful quiet in here, I bet you’re glad we showed up.”

Caleb couldn’t help a soft chuckle and looked up to greet her and the rest of his friends. 

Jester and Molly were followed in by Beau, Fjord and Yasha, so instead of taking their usual small table at the window, Jester opted for the large table right in front of the counter where they’d have enough space to sit with the five of them. It took them a good five minutes to get situated at the table, bickering about who would be sitting where, who took up too much space, and what they’d be ordering and if they’d be sharing anything. To his side, Caleb noticed Caduceus already adding different kinds of herbs to five cups, guessing correctly what everyone ended up ordering a couple minutes later. 

Caleb only half listened to their conversation as he continued cleaning teacups, wondering whether he should tell Jester now about the beguinage he found or if he should wait for a moment when the others weren’t there. He wanted to tell her, as he was sure it would make her smile. On the other hand he didn’t know if any of the others knew about their early morning stroll, and if they didn’t, he kind of liked the idea of keeping it that way. 

“Why do you look so terrible anyway, Fjord?” Beau’s voice crashed loudly through Caleb’s thoughts, dragging his attention back to his friends’ conversation. 

“Didn’t really sleep,” Fjord said. “Thanks again, Molly.”

“It’s not my fault you’re such a light sleeper, love,” Molly replied. 

“No one can sleep through that,” Fjord said. “I’m pretty sure Caleb and Nott can hear you too, right Caleb?” 

Caleb looked up at Fjord, who did indeed look quite exhausted. “I don’t sleep a lot anyway. But I’ve definitely heard some… interesting things from your apartment.” 

“You’re welcome,” Molly said, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back in the chair. “Anyway, Fjord, you probably wouldn’t complain so much if you got yourself some company on occasion as well.” 

Jester looked up from her sketchbook, and Yasha shifted in her seat, the both of them now focussing their full attention on the conversation, both smirking. 

“I don’t care that you bring people home,” Fjord sighed. “If I did I wouldn’t have held out living with you for over a year already. I’m just saying you don’t have to be so damn loud.”

“See, if you’d had better experiences in your life you’d know that sometimes it’s just impossible to be quiet,” Molly said, grinning wickedly at Fjord. 

Beau snorted. 

Fjord, to his benefit, managed to keep a straight face and roll his eyes quite convincingly at Molly, though his cheeks seemed to darken somewhat. “Right, sure.”

“I bet you can be really loud, actually,” Molly said. “In the right hands, that is. Anyway, I should be heading out, The Fletching is opening a new show tonight and I really should be there early.” 

He hopped out of his seat gracefully, and Yasha stood up as well. Molly leaned over Jester’s chair, handed her a couple of silvers and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for bringing me, darling. Let me know when you’d like your next lesson to be?”

“Thanks Caduceus, Caleb,” Yasha said softly, nodding in their direction. 

“You’re very welcome,” Caduceus replied, smiling. “Please do come back, I still have to show you my garden.” 

“I’ll walk with you guys,” Beau said, jumping up from her seat. “I need to - important - there’s some stuff - Cobalt Soul stuff that I gotta take care of.” 

“Wonderful,” Molly said, looking pointedly at Yasha. “Anyway, let’s go. Wonderful seeing you all. Fjord, let me know?”

“Let you know what?” Fjord asked, voice slightly higher pitched than usual. 

“If you wanna take me up on that bet,” Molly answered and he winked at him. Then he spun around and followed Yasha and Beau, who were already halfway out the door. 

It was quiet for a moment and then Fjord let out a loud groan, collapsed onto the table, and Jester burst into giggles. 

“Worst flatmate,” Fjord mumbled into his arms.

“I don’t know, Fjord,” Jester said, grinning. “That was a pretty generous offer he just made you.”

Fjord groaned again and pushed himself upward slightly. He was definitely blushing now, fiercely, his eyes flicking back and forth between the three people still in the cafe. “It’s not like he meant it.” 

“Oh, no, he meant that,” Caduceus said casually, most of his concentration on his work.

Fjord stared at Caduceus a moment. “No, what? No. He never means it. I know you’re pretty good at like, reading people, ‘Duceus, but Molly wouldn’t seriously want me to say yes. It’s just a joke.”

“Are you sure he’s not secretly in love with you?” Jester asked. She was sitting on her knees in her chair now, leaning over the table. “Like, what if, oh my gosh, what  _ if  _ he’s been serious this entire time, and you just  _ thought  _ he was joking?”

Fjord laughed. “Sure, that makes total sense, that’s obviously why he brings all those other people home.”

“It might be,” Caleb said, shrugging. “It might be his way of trying to get your attention.”

“I mean he doesn’t need to  _ try  _ to get my attention,” Fjord said. 

They were all quiet for a moment again, and then Fjord seemed to suddenly realized what he’d just said. He looked between his three friends again, frowning, and then he grabbed a handful of coins from his pocket, putting it down in front of Jester. “I’m gonna… go…”

“And they lived happily ever after,” Jester said after the door fell closed after Fjord, still smiling. 

Caleb chuckled. “I doubt it’ll be that easy.”

“Why not?” Jester asked. She got up from the table and started gathering the empty tea cups and plates from the table, placing them on the counter. 

“Jester, you don’t have to, that’s my job,” Caleb said quickly. “Quite literally.”

She smiled at him. “It’s okay, I used to help clean up all the time before he had you around, right Caduceus?”

“Right,” Caduceus agreed. “There’s not much left to do though. Why don’t you both head home. I’ll have your coin sorted tomorrow, mister Caleb, I’ll take care of the last things here for now.” 

“Are you sure?” Caleb asked. 

“Yeah, sure,” Caduceus said. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow. You, too, Jester.” 

* * *

Jester wanted to grab his hand. She wanted to really bad. The urge had hit her as soon as they’d stepped out the door of The Blooming Grove into the bustling streets together. The stupidest thing about it was that she’d done it once before and it had been fine, but it seemed different somehow today. Last time their walk had been like a secret, or even like a dream, the two of them alone in the world, both vulnerable and soft, but safe with each other. Now the city was alive around them, loud and clear and grounded in reality, and Jester felt restless. Her entire body was jittery, her tail swishing around behind her of its own accord. 

She glanced at Caleb from the corner of her eye. He had his hair back today, like he usually did when he was working, half up in a small bun. She wondered for the millionth time what he would look like without a beard. Not that she didn’t like the beard. She just wanted to  _ know _ . 

“I found another one,” Caleb said softly after they’d been walking in silence for a while.

“What?” Jester asked.

“I found another beguinage,” Caleb clarified. “I was out walking here in the Gallimaufry the other night and I found one.” 

“Really?” Jester asked, clasping her hands together excitedly. “Is it close? Will you show me, Caleb?” 

“Now?” 

“I mean, I don’t have anything better to do,” Jester said, giving him her prettiest smile. 

Caleb smiled back at her. “All right, this way then.” 

She followed him through the winding streets, left, right, left again, taking so many turns Jester was last after the first five minutes, even though she’d lived in the city for over a year. Caleb, however, seemed to know exactly where he was going without even thinking about it a whole lot. She suspected that regular old ‘good memory’ didn’t quite cover what Caleb had going in his head, which was quite intriguing. She wondered what had stored up in there about her. 

“Here,” Caleb said, turning into an alley. 

At the end of the alley was a wooden gate, quite similar to the one in the Firmaments that Jester knew about. Caleb pushed the door open and stepped to the side so she could walk through first, and sure enough, she found herself standing in a similar garden, surrounded by high, ivy covered walls. She walked into the tall grass slowly, toward the pond, smiling as she took in the space. They were the only ones there at the moment. 

Jester spun around to find Caleb right behind her. “It’s wonderful,” she whispered. “You found it so fast! I’ve been looking for the other ones for ages and you just found one!”

“You just needed a second set of eyes,” Caleb said. He wasn’t looking at her, but down at his feet, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. “Do you - wanna sit?”

Without answering, Jester just sank down into the grass and patted the ground beside her. Caleb sat down next to her, eyes still fixed firmly on the ground. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but she was sure he wouldn’t tell her if she just asked. 

“You never answered my question,” she said instead. 

“What question?”

“Why isn’t it that easy?” Jester asked. “Just living happily ever after.”

“Oh,” Caleb said. “That. I suppose I was just saying that… Sometimes just because two people like each other it doesn’t mean it always works out immediately, or perfectly, or stays the same forever. You know, because life is complicated.”

Jester waited a moment, wondering if he was going to say more. She wanted to ask if that was what had happened with Astrid, or if it had been something else, maybe something worse. It wasn’t that she wanted to know everything about him as much as she wanted him to feel like he  _ could  _ tell her if he wanted to. But she didn’t want to scare him away, so she didn’t ask at all. 

“I think people like to  _ make  _ life more complicated,” Jester said, shrugging. “Because sometimes the really simple things can be, like, super scary, you know?”

Caleb snorted and looked up to meet her eyes for the first time. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course I do,” Jester replied. “I’m super smart, obviously.”

Caleb nodded. “So what’s a simple thing you are scared of then?” 

Jester hesitated for a moment. “I’ll trade you one thing I’m scared of for one of yours.”

“Deal.”

“I’m scared of being lonely again,” Jester said quietly. “I was never alone, growing up, not really. There were always a bunch of people in the Chateau, and they were nice and all, and whenever my mama was there it was wonderful, of course. But she was busy a lot. And there wasn’t anyone my own age, or anyone I could  _ really  _ talk to, you know? Not until I met Artie, anyway.”

“You talk about him a lot, this friend of yours. Artie?” 

Jester grinned. “That’s a secret for another day. Your turn now, Caleb, what are you scared of?”

Her smile faltered as she watched his features suddenly turn harsh, his eyes dark. He seemed to lock up in his body and she half expected him to get up and walk away, or just bite his tongue and not tell her anything. His eyes were still on hers but she could tell his mind was miles away. 

“I’m scared of many things, Jester,” he said then. 

“Tell me one?” Jester asked quietly, again fighting the urge to reach for his hand. 

“I’m scared of being happy.” The answer was barely a whisper.

“Why?” 

“Because I might lose it again.”

Jester reached for him now, slowly, giving him time to back away, but to her surprise he allowed her to pull him into a hug. He was stiff like a board against her, his arms pressed against his side but he allowed her to wrap her arms around him, lay her head on his shoulder, careful not to hit him with her horns. 

“That won’t happen, Caleb,” she muttered into his hair.

A humourless chuckle escaped Caleb’s lips. “How could you possibly know?” 

“Because I won’t let it.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of this chapter brought to you by missing Molly hours to be really honest. Another part of it brought by the fact I just watched 122 and I just needed something else to think about. 
> 
> As always I'd really love to hear your thoughts in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hope to see you for the next one!
> 
> -X


	6. Perception And Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Caleb and Jester see the world in very different ways.

Caleb was sitting at a long table in the main hall of the Marble Tomes Library. In front of him, spread out on the table, were several piles of notes, neatly organized by topic and date, two books flipped open to their relevant chapters, and in the middle of it all, staring at him, a blank piece of parchment. Caleb had installed himself at the table half an hour ago, fully intending to get started on professor Thelyss’ assignment for next Miresen, but he had yet to put his quill to paper. 

Ever since Caleb had run away, he’d hardly slept, and when he did, his dreams were haunted by those he’d run from. This morning, however, Caleb had woken up from an entirely different kind of dream. A dream filled with warm sunlight, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, and the sound of a familiar, tinkling laugh. The dream itself had been innocent enough, but even just thinking about the fact he’d had it made the blood rush to his cheeks. Thanks to Caleb’s close to perfect memory, the Jester in his dream had been a near faultless copy of the one in the real world. 

In his dream, Caleb had been sitting on the couch in Jester and Beau’s flat, pretending to read a book while watching Jester paint from behind the curtain of his messy hair. She’d been perched on the edge of her stool, hands and clothes covered in paint splatter, tail swishing behind her and brows furrowed in concentration as she painted. Caleb had just come to the conclusion he could watch her all day, when she’d noticed him staring. 

_“Is your book not interesting?” She’d asked, a teasing smile on her lips as she’d turned to face him._

_“I’m sure it is,” Caleb had replied. “It seems I’m unable to focus on it today, though.”_

_“Am I distracting you?”_

_“Always.”_

_She’d gotten up from her stool and made her way over to the couch, where she’d sat down next to Caleb, pulling her legs up under her and resting her head against his shoulder._

_“Read it to me, then,” she’d said. “Maybe that way you can still get some work done. We wouldn’t want professor Thelyss to think you’re slacking.”_

_Caleb had laughed and kissed the top of her head. “It’s worth a try.”_

Caleb had woken up with an ache in his chest, a feeling of losing something he’d never had in the first place. Desperate for a distraction, he’d headed to the library right after breakfast, determined to clear his head of ridiculous fantasies and focus instead on doing what he’d come here to do in the first place: learn. 

He was supposed to be good at that - ‘supposed’ being the keyword in that sentence. As interested as Caleb really, truly was in dunamancy, his mind kept wandering back to lilac eyes and dark blue freckles. 

“Hello! Caleb!” 

Caleb’s eyes snapped up at the sound of the insistent, too-loud whispered words and saw Beau standing across the table. 

“There you are,” she said. “Hells, you were miles away. Do you mind if I join you? I got some research to do.”

“Sure, why not,” Caleb said, gathering some of his papers closer to him. 

Beau flopped down in the chair across from him and pulled out a thick, worn leather notebook, which she flipped through until she landed on an empty page. “So what’re you up to then?” 

“Homework,” Caleb replied, picking up his quill. 

“You’re doing the weird Dynasty magic thing, right? Anything interesting?” 

“Ja, it’s very interesting,” Caleb answered. 

Beau’s lips curved up into a slight smile.

Caleb reached for the parchment on his right, and scanned the page. Notes on the theory and uses of gravitational spells. He sighed quietly and dipped his quill into his ink pot.

**_Why Dunamancy Differs From Other Schools Of Magic_ **

_by Caleb Widogast_

_The History Of Dunamantic Magic shows that dunamancy, like other known schools of magic, such as transmutation, configuration and abduration, has been developed through the centuries as not just a practical, but a cultural aspect of their respective societies. Although there are many similarities to be noted between all schools of magic, in their origin as well as their development, the magic of dunamis stands out in its subtlety, and its unique connection to the endless possibilities that lie within the Multiverse Theory. Exploring the ways in which dunamantic magic differs from its sister schools, allows us -_

Outside the library the nearest clock tower struck eleven times, and Caleb’s eyes drifted to the window on the west side of the building that looked in the direction of Ssussun Square, where the main university buildings were located. 

“Oh, shit,” Beau suddenly said. 

“Something wrong?” Caleb asked. 

“Yeah, fuck, I totally forgot I promised Jester I’d bring her lunch before heading here,” Beau said. “Shit, I really should get this done though.”

“I can go,” Caleb said, a little too fast. 

Beau looked up at him, lips tugging upward again. “Huh?”

“I can bring her some lunch,” Caleb said, running a hand through his hair. “I - um - was heading out soon anyway. Need to run by professor Thelyss’ office. What - what would she want for lunch?” 

Beau leaned back in her chair and shrugged. “Oh, I usually just get her something sugary.”

Caleb nodded and started putting his notes in his back, and carefully put his spellbook back at his side. 

“She’s at the atelier,” Beau said, looking back down at the notebook. “Top floor of L’Magthere de’lil’Lloun, first door on the left. Can’t miss it.” 

Caleb quirked an eyebrow at her seemingly perfect pronunciation of the Undercommon name of the arts building. He was about to ask about it, but Beau had already turned her full attention back to her work, so he decided against it. He shrugged on his coat and slung his heavy bag over his shoulder. “See you later, Beauregard.” 

“Yeah, later, Caleb.”

Caleb made his way down Screa Street in the direction of the main university buildings, in search of a place to find something to eat. It was late in the morning, and the university grounds were buzzing with life, students moving from building to building, carrying heavy books and portfolios, chatting to each other in several languages about their classes or their plans for the weekend. The familiarity of it all was still painful and comforting at the same time. 

Crammed between a stationary store and what looked to be a residential building, Caleb spotted a bakery called The Mayflour and went inside. 

There was an older looking drow lady behind the counter, her apron covered in flour, a warm smile lighting up her face. 

“Good morning, sir,” she said, as Caleb walked in. “What can I do for you?”

Caleb took a moment to look at all the different kinds of pastries on offer. “I’d like two cinnamon rolls, two apple turnovers, and - what’s that?” Caleb pointed curiously at a loaf of bread covered in powdered sugar that looked very familiar. 

“Brorn-tchal, is what we call it,” the woman said. “It’s filled with dried fruit and spices.”

“Stollen,” Caleb said, smiling. “I mean - that’s where we call it where I am from. Can I have two slices of that?”

“Of course, would you like anything else?”

“No, thank you, that’ll be all.”

-

The Arts Institute was a building similar to the one where Caleb’s lectures took place, but it _felt_ different. Whereas the Institute of Magic was quiet and serious, hushed voices and clicking heels on polished floors, this building felt more welcoming, less daunting. The ancient walls were covered in the students’ art and behind a closed door somewhere off in the distance, music was being played. ‘Whimsical’ was the first word that came to Caleb’s mind.

He climbed up the stairs to the fifth floor, and had to pause for a moment when he reached the top floor to catch his breath. It was quieter here. 

The first door on the left, as Beau had instructed, was open. Caleb looked through and sucked in a sharp breath. 

The atelier was filled with bright light, coming in through the windows - or that was what it was made to look like. After a couple of seconds of adjusting his eyes to daylight for the first time in over a month, Caleb could see that it wasn’t _real_ sunlight coming in, but a magical effect. The light wasn’t what had made him stop in his tracks, though.

In front of one of the windows, perched on the edge of her stool, sat Jester. She’d pulled her hair away from her face, half up in a messy bun to keep it from falling in front of her eyes. She had the end of her brush stuck between her teeth, frowning at the canvas in front of her. She’d rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and her hands and forearms were covered in red and purple paint. She looked almost identical to how she had in his dream, except right here, right now, she hadn’t noticed him staring. 

Caleb knocked on the open door. “Hallo?”

Jester looked up and smiled as she saw him. “Caleb, what are you doing here?”

“I ran into Beauregard at the library,” Caleb said, walking into the room. “She mentioned she forgot to bring you lunch, and since I was going to be passing through here anyway, I said I could do it. So here I am. With lunch.”

“Oh, Caleb, that’s so sweet of you,” Jester said, spinning around on her stool and hopping off of it. “Come on then, I’ll make coffee for once.”

Caleb follows her to the back of the room, glancing back at the painting she’d been working on. It’s still in its beginning stages, but it’s clearly a portrait, currently depicting the base image of a beautiful tiefling woman with red skin, flowing curls and spiralling horns. Her mother, Caleb thought. 

In the back of the room there was a space set up that seemed to function as a little kitchen, and Caleb got the sense that it wasn’t unusual for Jester and the other students to spend an entire day in the atelier, working on their art in what had to be one of the only places in the city that offered daylight to work in. 

“Could you…?” Jester gestured at the smoldering embers in the stove.

Caleb smiled and pointed, and Jester’s eyes widened with joy as the embers sparked and started burning again. 

“That’s so _cool_ ,” she said, busying herself with making coffee. 

Caleb grabbed two seemingly clean plates from a shelf and divided the treats he’d bought over them, before sitting down at the table. Jester soon joined him, sitting down across from him and putting two cups of coffee down between them on the table. 

“Gosh that all looks so good,” Jester said, looking at the pastries on her plate. “What’s that?”

“Well, the lady called it ‘brorn-tchal’,” Caleb said, struggling through the unfamiliar word. “But in Zemnian we call it ‘stollen’. Or at least I think it’s the same thing. It looks the same. It’s a holiday treat where I’m from.”

Jester took a small bite and chewed on it for a second before humming appreciatively and nodding. “S’very good,” she mumbled between bites. 

“It’s a beautiful painting you’re working on,” Caleb said, nodding at the canvas. “That’s your mother, ja?”

“Yes, it’s my mama, or it’s going to be here anyway,” Jester answered. “She’s way more beautiful in real life, you know… I haven’t seen her in a while now, so I’m not sure I’m remembering her right completely. She’s got a beauty spot under her eye, but I suddenly wasn’t sure whether it’s under her right or her left eye so I haven’t painted it yet. And it’s always hard to capture the way she smiles. It’s soft and gentle, but there’s a challenge in it, too. She smiles like she’s carrying a secret in the corner of her mouth, one only the lucky few can reach and unravel.”

“You have an eye for detail,” Caleb said, and he took a sip of his coffee. “An artist’s eye.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jester said, waving the comment away, and Caleb felt something twist in his stomach as a hint of purple appeared in her cheeks. 

“Sure you do,” Caleb said. “I think you see people very differently than I do. Beauregard for instance, you know her very well, ja?” 

Jester nodded.

“When I look at her, I see a young woman who is on the stubborn side of determination, eager to either prove herself or prove everyone else wrong. I see a uniform that shows me where her allegiance lies, and I see someone who won’t back down from a fight, whether with words or fists. Now all these things may be true, or not, and you may see them as well, but I think you see other things that I don’t. Details I miss. Things you would notice if you’d paint her.”

Jester was quiet for a moment. “Her eyes are the same colour as the sash she wears for the Cobalt Soul. When she grins, the scar pulls at her mouth and her eye, making it slightly crooked and always a little wicked. When she gets angry or frustrated she’ll leave the house without saying anything and she’ll come home in the middle of the night, covered in bruises and scrapes and glistening with sweat, with almost that same wicked grin on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes at all.” 

“See?” Caleb said softly. “You see things other people might not. I’m sure you could tell me countless things I’d never notice.”

Jester smiled. “The paint on Molly’s nails is always chipped. He paints them different colours every night, but he always makes sure the rings he wears match them. He’s very bad at hiding the bruises he almost always has on his neck and chest, but I don’t think he really wants them to be hidden. Yasha always looks a bit like a mess, like she doesn’t care about how she looks, but that’s not completely true. She takes like half an hour every morning to braid her hair, adding flowers and jewels to the strands. I think they’re memories that she adorns her braids with, but I don’t know what memories they are.”

She continued talking about her friends - _their_ friends - and Caleb listened intently, trying to commit to his memory not just her words, but the way she talked: hesitant and a little insecure at first, but the more she talked, the more she seemed to get engrossed in recalling these details about the people she clearly cared about, her words more and more passionate.

“And you -” Jester started, but abruptly stopped. 

Caleb looked up to meet her eyes. “What about me?” 

Jester hesitated. “I don’t know…” 

Caleb leaned back in his chair a little. “I won’t be offended. I know I’m not as… striking as everyone else.”

“That’s not true,” Jester said quickly. “You’re always hiding, though. It’s hard to notice things about you when you’re hiding. Like right now, you’re hiding your face behind your hair.” 

Caleb felt a wave of heat rush to his face, but he ignored, reaching up with both hands to push his hair back. Jester smiled. 

“You have a lot going on on your face, you know,” she said. “Your eyebrows are restless, like they move with every little thought you have, and I think you have _a lot_ of thoughts all the time. You always have dark circles under your eyes because you don’t sleep a lot - it’s not _ugly_ , Caleb, it makes me worry. You have very pretty long lashes. Your eyes are sad when you think people aren’t looking at you.”

Caleb was sure he was quite red now, his face hot, his heartbeat fast, but he wasn’t sure whether it was because someone had apparently noticed so much about him while he was trying to go unnoticed, or because it was _Jester_ who’d noticed all these things about him. 

“You have very nice hands,” Jester said, moving her eyes from his face. “You’re very graceful when you cast spells, just little things like just now. I think it’s because you _love_ magic. You want to do it as well as you can, with as much care as you can. And… can I?” 

She reached forward over the table. Caleb hesitated for a moment but then offered her his right hand. She took it carefully, palm facing up, and tracing the lines on it with her fingers. Caleb shivered. She ran a finger over each of his, her eyes focussed, taking in details Caleb probably would never notice himself. Her curious fingers came to a stop on the edge of the bandage peeking out from under his sleeve. 

“Yasha braids memories into her hair,” Jester said slowly. “I think you’re hiding memories under here.” 

She looked up at Caleb and he nodded shakily. 

“Can I see?” 

The question felt like a punch in the gut. He could say no, he knew she’d respect his answer if he did, but there was something about it, about the question, about her, about the whole situation that made him want to say yes. 

“Ja, okay,” Caleb said. “But you have to promise me something first.”

“Okay,” Jester said softly. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” Caleb said. “And you can’t ask any questions.” 

Jester frowned at the second part, but then nodded anyway. “I promise, Caleb.”

Caleb pulled his hand from hers and rolled up his sleeve to his elbow. Then he carefully undid the end of the wrapping and started winding the bandage off his arm. Jester’s eyes were on his hands, but Caleb’s eyes were fixed on her face, looking for any reaction. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t gasp. She didn’t reel back. 

She reached forward across the table again, the same careful, questioning motion as before, and again, Caleb allowed her to take his hand. He shivered as she ran her fingers up his forearm, tracing the faint lines and bumps of the scars decorating his skin. Her touch was soft and gentle, his skin heating up where she touched him. 

“I know you said no questions,” Jester said. “And you don’t have to answer, but I’m going to ask. Who did it, Caleb?”

Not what, not why, but who.

Caleb swallowed hard. “His name was - no, _is -_ his name _is_ Trent Ikithon.” Speaking the name out loud felt like pulling all the air from his lungs at once, sudden and sharp, and he had to take a deep breath before he could continue speaking. “He was my teacher. I ran away. I think he’s still looking for me. That’s why I hide.” 

Jester nodded slowly, her eyes still on his arm, her fingers still on his skin. “I’m sorry,” she said then. “You don’t have to hide from us here, though, Caleb. You don’t have to hide from me. I’ll keep your secrets.”

“I know,” Caleb said, and to his surprise, he meant it, too. 

_Trust?_ Astrid spat the word in the back of his mind. _Really, Bren? Trust?_

He ignored her. 

Jester leant forward and picked up the discarded bandage. Caleb watched as she carefully rewrapped his arm. When she was done she lifted his hand and pressed a quick kiss on his fingers that sent a wave of sparks down his spine, and then she put his hand back on the table. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” she said with a smile. “And you know we’re here for you right? If bad people are after you, maybe we can help you.” 

“They’re not just ‘bad people’, Jester. They’re dangerous.”

Jester shrugged. “That’s the point. You can’t face dangerous people alone, that’d be stupid.”

Caleb snorted. “Thank you, Jester,” he said after a moment. 

“You’re very welcome,” Jester said, and she picked up a cinnamon roll. “Gosh, I _love_ these.”

And just like that, the heavy, dark atmosphere seemed to disappear from the room again entirely, and with it some of the weight from Caleb’s shoulders. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm back. Nothing like a good traumatizing episode to keep the writing going. I hope y'all enjoyed. 
> 
> As always I'd really love to hear your thoughts in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com).
> 
> Hope to see you for the next one!
> 
> -X


	7. Blood Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which old friends and new acquaintances make for interesting company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: angst, violence, panic attack
> 
> (sorry this chapter isn't just fluff sorry sorry sorry)

It had been five weeks, three days, five hours and forty minutes since Caleb had come to Rosohna. It was nine in the evening, and he was walking across campus with Nott, Jester and Beau, on their way home. It was a warm evening, a gentle breeze blowing across Ssussun Square as they crossed. The girls were talking about something trivial, and Caleb wasn’t really paying attention, thoughts back on the new spell professor Thelyss had shown him earlier that day. He’d spent most of the afternoon and early evening practicing it in the atelier as Jester had continued her work on the portrait of her mother. She hadn’t minded the company, and to Caleb the atelier felt somewhat like a kind of sanctuary, filled with light and the comforting noise of Jester working and rummaging around in the background. 

They’d crossed the square now and turned into one of the smaller streets that led from the Firmaments to the Gallimaufry district when Jester suddenly stopped in her tracks, right in front of Beau, who bumped into her. 

“What the hell, Jess?” Beau asked, rubbing her shoulder. 

“I thought I…” Jester trailed off, looking around. 

Caleb’s mind snapped into focus, following her eyes, glancing around the street, focussing his hearing. He didn’t find anything. “What’s wrong, Jester?” He asked, quietly. 

“Never mind,” Jester said. “I thought I saw something, but it was probably just a trick of the light. I swear I’ll never get used to living in eternal night.” She said it with a smile and a shrug, but a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, which were still full of worry. 

Beau seemed to also catch her unease. She grabbed Jester’s hand and forced a laugh. “You’re real jumpy for someone who can actually see in the dark, you know. Come on.” With a small jerk of her head she motioned Caleb and Nott to follow and turned into an alley on their right, diverting from their usual route home. 

They quickened their pace as Caleb kept scanning their surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. Maybe it had just been a trick of the light, maybe they were being paranoid, or maybe - 

At first Caleb only felt the force of the impact, like being punched in the back of his left shoulder, and he stumbled forward a couple of steps. A lot of things happened at once. Jester shrieked. Beau pushed her away to the side and reached for the staff on her back. Nott pulled out her crossbow. Caleb spun around in the direction of where the impact had come from, just in time to see a second dagger get hurled in his direction. It missed him by maybe an inch. 

At the end of the alley stood a hooded figure, face shrouded by shadows, but the all too familiar purples, greys and dark browns of the uniform peeking out underneath the heavy cloak were enough to amplify the sudden rush of adrenaline tenfold. 

_Fight or flight, Bren?_

He reached forward with his right hand, throwing a mote of fire in the direction of the individual attacking him. Or at least the direction they’d been a mere second ago, and Caleb watched helplessly as the Fire Bolt impacted the stone wall across the street. 

_Fight or flight?_

Beau rushed by him, fast as lightning, and though his eyes barely registered the hit, the unmistakable _whack_ and following grunt were enough to tell Caleb that at least her attack had met its target. A crossbow bolt whizzed by him and hit the wall, and Nott swore loudly from behind him, darting away and ducking behind a barrel. 

_What’s it gonna be, Bren?_

“She’ll kill them.” Caleb hissed in reply, softly, under his breath. 

_They might buy you time._

Trembling, Caleb reached into his component pouch, in search for something useful, something strong enough to maybe gain the upper hand. Not fast enough, though, not nearly fast enough, as the Volstrucker moved into his space, close enough for him to see her face, eyes cold, void of any emotion.

“Guten Abend, Bren,” she said, and then she muttered another word, a familiar word, though the spell wasn’t in Caleb’s repertoire. 

It had been used against him before, and as a familiar fog started filling the corners of his vision he tried to push at it, tried to shake it off, but as he had many times before, failed. He was blind. 

“Fuck this!” Beau yelled from a couple feet away, indicating she had also been hit by the effect. 

“Guten Abend, Liese,” Caleb whispered, reaching for his pouch again. Cold steel wrapped around his wrist. His adrenaline from a moment ago started dying down, and as it did, suddenly he could feel the heat in his shoulder, burning impossibly hot. He couldn’t feel the cuff around his left wrist, couldn’t _feel_ his left wrist, couldn’t feel his left arm at all, only the heat in his shoulder, growing more and more intense. 

“Stand down, Bren,” Liese said. “You don’t want your charming new friends to get hurt, now, do you? This will all be a lot easier if you just come with me. Master Ikithon will be so relieved to have you back. Though I might have a little fun with you first. You certainly deserve it, Verräter. _”_

The last word came with another pulse of searing heat in his shoulder, as she grabbed hold of the blade and twisted it further into his flesh. 

“That’s quite enough, I think,” a familiar, commanding voice sounded through the alley.

Suddenly, Caleb’s wrists were released and his sight returned. A foot in front of him, now suspended in the air choking on seemingly nothing, muscles spasming against an invisible, crushing force, hung Liese, blocking most of Caleb’s view of professor Thelyss standing at the end of the alley. 

Caleb stepped away from Liese, two, three steps backwards, and looked at her, struggling in the air. Professor Thelyss walked up behind her almost casually, one hand raised in the air, focussing on the spell, but otherwise seemingly unnerved by the entire situation. 

“Interesting,” he said, eying Liese up and down. “I was aware our allegiance with the Empire was fragile, but for a spy to get caught so easily in the heart of our country? That seems reckless. Not to mention, stupid.”

“She’s not here for your Dynasty,” Caleb managed through gritted teeth. The searing feeling in his shoulder was shifting, twisting, turning toward not just heat but _pain_. He’d felt pain before: spells so forceful he’d blacked out from the impact, the slow track of glowing crystals through soft skin, fire burning his hands, his arms, his back, but nothing had felt quite like this sharp, deep stinging pain that seemed to capture most of his awareness. 

“That implies she’s here for you, Widogast.”

Professor Thelyss looked the same as he had just the past afternoon, but somehow entirely different. Floating just a couple inches above the ground, shoulders squared, chin up, casually confident holding someone’s life in his hand. This wasn’t Caleb’s dunamancy professor at all, this was Essek Thelyss, Shadowhand to the Bright Queen of the Dynasty. And right now, he was a lot more dangerous than the woman he held at his mercy. Lying to him now might cost Caleb more than Liese had come for. 

“She is,” Caleb said.

“Very interesting,” the Shadowhand said. “But it does leave us with quite a complicated situation. See, if I turn her in, the Bright Queen will certainly forgo your judgement of this filth’s intent. A simple failed mission could turn a fragile peace into a raging war with just a snap of her fingers.”

“A war would not benefit either nation right now,” Beau cut in. Caleb noticed her standing off to the side now, still breathing heavy but seemingly unharmed, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I agree. However, if I were to clean up this mess discreetly, you’d owe me a very good explanation at a later date, Widogast.”

“How will you clean it?” Caleb asked, fixing his eyes back on Liese’s face. 

“Would you mourn her loss?”

Caleb shook his head. He immediately winced as the movement sparked another ripple of agonizing pain through his shoulder. 

“Do you need more information out of her?” 

“I doubt she’ll give it.”

“I could make her.”

The words hung in the air between all of them for a moment, the truth in them clear, the ease with which they were spoken a confirmation of his position, his power, and perhaps his morality. 

“I know why she’s here,” Caleb said. “I know others are likely on their way. I know who sent her, and I know why.” 

The Shadowhand nodded. “All right, if that is indeed enough… Any last words?”

The pressure on Liese’s windpipe seemed to momentarily loosen. “He’ll find you, Bren, I know he will. He’ll be happy to finish what he couldn’t. He doesn’t like it when people don’t do as he says. You should’ve learned: loyalty is everything.” 

“Loyalty makes you blind,” Caleb replied, and he nodded to Essek. 

With that, Essek closed his hand into a fist, and with a sickly crunching noise, Liese’s chest seemed to crush into itself, her death instant. She fell to the ground and Essek looked down his nose at her corpse. “I’ll take care of that. The rest of you should get somewhere inside _fast_ , somewhere inconspicuous and out of sight close to here.”

“I know a place,” Beau replied immediately. 

“Good. He needs medical attention, but don’t get one of the temple healers, they’ll ask questions. Get out of sight and clean him up, and I’ll clean up this end. I will find you later for a proper talk.” 

With that, the Shadowhand bent down and grabbed hold of the corpse in front of him, before drawing a few arcane symbols in the air with his free hand, and with a flash he was gone. 

* * *

Jester stood nailed to the ground, her back pressed against the rough stone wall that Beau had slammed her up against in her haste to get her out of harm’s way. From the second her eyes had caught the sight of the dagger wedged deep into Caleb’s shoulder, her whole perception had shifted, her entire mind had focussed, her vision narrowed to just that one spot, that treacherous, slowly growing crimson stain soaking through his coat. 

She screamed.

Or she thought she did. 

She heard a rush of movement - footsteps running, the hiss of fire, a hard thud of wood against muscle, the woosh of an arrow, a huff, a groan - but she saw nothing but Caleb. Injured and breathing heavy. Eyes desperate. Scared. She was scared, too. 

Then she saw nothing at all.

She screamed again.

Or she wanted to. 

She wasn’t sure she did. 

Caleb’s voice came through, clear, like crystal, though she couldn’t fully understand his words. A greeting, she thought, maybe. A second voice, a woman, clear and calm, in a language that sounded harsher than what Jester had expected from Caleb’s mother tongue. She couldn’t make sense of them, but she wanted them to stop, wanted everything to stop. 

When her sight returned it took a moment for her to register the changed scene in front of her. Caleb, still bleeding, stain still growing, left arm limp by his side as his chest rose and fell with heavy, labored breaths. A woman, dressed in purples and greys and browns suspended in the air, seemingly unable to breathe, her hood blown off, face revealed, framed by dark, shoulder length hair. Essek Thelyss, floating, billowing robes and an authoritarian look in his eyes. In control. 

They talked. 

Why were they talking? 

Caleb was injured, bleeding, who knew how bad it was? 

They were still talking, and she didn’t understand. 

Then the woman fell. Essek disappeared. Caleb stumbled. 

“Jess! Jess! _Jester!”_

Beau’s voice rang through her head and finally she felt her muscles unclench. She was shaking, a high pitched ringing slowly fading in her ears. 

“Jester! You gotta help me!” Beau insisted. “Come on we gotta get him out of here, he’s losing a shit ton of blood, it’s real bad!” 

They were the first words that made sense to Jester in what felt like hours, and Jester sprang into action, following Beau’s lead as they both reached down to carefully help Caleb back up. She winced as she slipped her shoulder under Caleb’s injured one.

“Sorry,” she breathed. “Does that make it worse?”

“It’s okay,” Caleb whispered. “It doesn’t make much of a difference.”

“Nott, go get Caduceus,” Beau said as she slung her staff over her free shoulder. “Get him to The Fletching fast as you can.”

“What, why?” Nott asked, voice shrill and eyes wide. “I shouldn’t leave you now!”

“He needs medical attention!” Beau argued. “You heard the Shadowhand, we shouldn’t involve temple healers, they’ll ask questions and we don’t have answers. Get Caduceus. Hurry!” 

Nott nodded and after a last worried glance at her friend she ran off, ducking into the shadows around the corner. 

“Come on, Jess, we gotta move,” Beau said. 

They weren’t far from The Fletching, which had to be the reason why Beau had picked it, because as far as inconspicuous went, the place really wasn’t up to standards. They managed to get there relatively quickly, considering Caleb seemed to be slipping out of consciousness and they were carrying most of his weight - which arguably wasn’t a whole lot, but still. 

They practically fell through the door, right into Yasha, who managed to catch some of their weight just in time to keep them from actually collapsing. She didn’t say anything. She just took Caleb from them, picking him up easily and carrying him up the stairs, no questions asked. 

Jester hurried along right behind her, out of breath, sore, mind racing, tunnel vision still on Caleb. 

“Artie?” She whispered into the air. “Please?”

Yasha took them to her own room on the third floor and laid him down on her bed on his right side. Caleb groaned as she put him down, blinked a couple times. Jester wondered if he knew where he was. She heard Beau and Yasha exchange a few quick words in the background, after which Yasha disappeared again.

“Nott better fucking hurry,” Beau muttered, and she started pacing through the room. 

Jester knelt down at the edge of the bed to where she was face to face with Caleb. She reached out and carefully put her hand on his cheek. He felt hot, his face sweaty. After a moment he slowly opened his eyes, meeting hers and he curled his lips up somewhat, trying to smile at her. 

“Hallo,” he said hoarsely. “It’s bad, ja?”

“I don’t know,” Jester answered truthfully. “There’s kind of a dagger still in your shoulder.”

Caleb chuckled and then winced. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

Jester smiled back at him, or attempted to anyway. “Help is on the way, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, right on my face, okay? Try to count my freckles.”

Another attempt at a smile from Caleb’s side, but she could see his eyes focus somewhat, as they started a quiet path over her face, following her instructions. 

“Artie?” She whispered again. “Traveler?”

* * *

Neun, zehn, elf...

Caleb wanted to close his eyes, he _really_ wanted to close his eyes, but Jester had told him not to. If he could just close his eyes for a moment maybe he could fall asleep and maybe the pain wouldn’t be so bad, but Jester had told him to keep his eyes on her. 

Vierundzwanzig, fünfundzwanzig… 

_A dagger to the shoulder, Bren, really?_ Eadwulf’s voice hummed in the back of his head. _All this time and effort, and that’s all it takes to end it? I expected better from you._

Dreiunddreißig, vierunddreißig… 

Jester was talking, whispering, hands clasping the symbol he’d seen her wear before, around her neck, on her wrist, hanging from her belt. Her eyes were on his, but she wasn’t talking to him, her words quick and desperate. She was praying, he realized. Praying for him. 

Neununddreißig, vierzig…

A face appeared next to Jester’s. A familiar, kind face, framed by a shock of pink hair. He was frowning, looking uncharacteristically focussed. He said something to Jester and her eyes snapped to his face, scared, but then she nodded. 

As careful as they tried to be, another overwhelming wave of pain crashed through him as they moved him to sit up, nausea building in his stomach. They sat on either of his sides. Jester grabbed hold of him, firm hands on his injured shoulder, another ripple of pain.

“Caleb?” The sound of Caduceus’ voice was grounding in a way, and the whizzing in Caleb’s ears subsided a bit. “I’m going to pull out the dagger. It’ll hurt. But only for a little bit.”

Caleb managed a nod. 

It was like being stabbed another time, but _worse_. Except the pain only seemed to last a second when suddenly a gentle coolness seemed to rush into his shoulder from where Jester’s hands were placed on him, not enough to take the pain away entirely, but enough to clear his head. Then Caduceus’s hands joined hers, right over the wound, and another wave of cool energy hit, more forceful, more focussed on the point where the dagger had pierced his flesh. As Caduceus pulled his hands away again, he seemed to pull the energy back with him, taking the pain with it as well. 

The whizzing in Caleb’s ears died down entirely as his consciousness regained its focus. Beau was standing across the room, leaning at the wall, shoulders drawn up, face full of worry. Nott was next to her, fidgeting with her crossbow, anxiously glancing between him and the door. Jester’s hands were still on his shoulder, but the agonizing pain from just a few seconds ago had settled just to a faint throbbing. Caleb gritted his teeth and tried to lift his arm. To his surprise, it did, relatively painlessly. It felt a bit sore and somewhat tingly, but all of the feeling had returned to it and he seemed capable of moving it without issue. 

He looked at Jester. “Thanks.”

“Oh - I - you know,” she stammered. “That wasn’t me, actually, that was all Caduceus.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Caleb said to Caduceus.

Caduceus shrugged and smiled. “Thankfully I don’t have to very often. How are you feeling?”

“It’s a bit sore,” Caleb admitted. “But otherwise I think I’m fine.” 

“Good, that means you can tell us what the hell just happened,” Beau said. 

“Beau!” Jester protested. 

“No, that’s fair,” Caleb said. “All of you could’ve been badly hurt because of me. You deserve to know why.” 

“Let’s head down,” Beau said. “Yasha closed the place up early, only people still down there are friends. We can have a drink, it might make talking a little easier, yeah?” 

“I could use a drink,” Nott sighed. 

Caleb pushed himself off of the bed with his right hand, still a bit nervous to put too much weight on his left. Jester got up with him, keeping her eyes on him, still frowning, still worried. Beau and Nott walked out of the room, and they followed suit. Walking down the stairs took a lot more effort than it should’ve. Even though his injury had mostly been taken care of, Caleb felt his legs shaking with every step, and he instinctively reached for the closest thing to him, which was Jester. 

She caught him by the arm, and wrapped it around her waist. 

“Careful, there,” she said quietly. “Come on.”

Protesting would be useless, he knew, not to mention foolish, so he leaned on her heavily the rest of the way down the stairs. He wasn’t certain whether her proximity was helping the lightheadedness or making it worse, but it was comforting, too, and he was severely in need of something comforting him. 

There were a couple people waiting for them downstairs. Mollymauk was behind the bar, in the process of pouring a drink for the other people sitting at a table near it. Yasha and Fjord sat on one end, and on the other was the Shadowhand, looking very out of place surrounded by the whimsical interior of the theatre bar. They all looked up when the lot of them walked through the curtain. 

“You look better,” Yasha commented softly, as Jester helped Caleb sit down. “That’s good.”

“Drinks, I imagine?” Molly said to the new arrivals, not even waiting for their hums of agreement. 

A couple minutes later they were all sitting at the table in silence, sipping their drinks. 

“So, um,” Caleb hesitated. He didn’t know what to say, where to even begin this story. What to share, what _not_ to share. How much truth, how much half-truth, how much not true at all. 

A hand brushed against his under the table, a silent offer. He grabbed it, used the feeling of Jester’s hand in his to ground himself in the here and now as he mentally prepared himself to dive into the story of his past.

“This is a long story,” Caleb said. 

“That’s okay,” Jester said, squeezing his hand. “We have time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so. Sorry for the sudden angst. It was always gonna happen. I hope I didn't scare anyone off with it 😂 Anyway, next chapter is going to be a bit of a continuation of the angst, considering it's going to be exploring a bit of Caleb's past. Just as a warning. 
> 
> As always I'd really love to hear your thoughts in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com)
> 
> Hope to see you for the next one!
> 
> -X


	8. Bren Aldric Ermendrud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Caleb takes his friends on a trip down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter heavily features Astrid, Eadwulf and Trent, and other people/events related to Caleb's childhood.

“I grew up in a small town called Blumenthal,” Caleb started quietly. “We didn’t have much. We lived on a small farm, my parents and I. They were Una and Leofric Ermendrud.”

“Is that your name, too?” Nott asked.

“Ja, it is,” Caleb answered. “My name is - my  _ real  _ name is Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

Jester squeezed his hand under the table. “Do you want us to call you Bren?” 

“I - no, no I don’t,” Caleb said. “They’re still looking for him. Me. And I like Caleb.”

“Me too,” Jester said, smiling. 

Caleb’s stomach did a backflip and he took another sip of his ale. “Anyway-”

* * *

Bren was eight years old when he cast a spell for the first time - or, well, not a spell, really, just a little thing, just a little spark of magic, a little cantrip of a thing. He’d seen it done before. An elven woman had come to town, a fortune teller, a soothsayer, a pshychic.  _ Hexe _ , was the ugly word people hissed after she passed. Bren hadn’t cared too much about her ability to read hands or bones or cards, but this woman could make  _ light _ . She would pull out a bit of wychwood, whisper an ancient word, trace a pattern with her fingers, and four little lights would appear in the air, dancing around her head. Bren watched her for days, from a safe distance, face hidden behind a book, daring a glance in her direction every so often. Eventually he mustered up the courage to go up to her and ask.

“Frau Hexe, can you please teach me how to make those lights?”

He had put on his most charming smile - the one that he gave the schoolteacher to convince her to lend him another book - and the witch had looked him over top to bottom, taking him in from his messy red hair to his old, worn down boots. 

“Let me look at your hands, Junge,” she’d said.

Bren had complied, showed the woman his hands and she’d quietly traced the lines on them with her finger. Then she’d smiled. “Ja, I can teach you, sit down.”

She’d pulled a book out of her bag, bound in leather, old and worn like Bren’s boots, and flipped it open. Then she’d also conjured up some parchment, a quill and ink, and handed both to Bren. “Now, you need to copy this page exactly, all right? You need to be as precise as you can, or the spell won’t be the same. It will take a while. Do you think you can do it?”

“Ja, I think so,” Bren had replied, and he’d begun. He was slow, so very slow at first, copying the runes and the arcane symbols on the page, but the more he copied them, the more they started making sense to him. It took a full hour, but when he was done, the witch handed him a piece of wychwood, too, and Bren had repeated the same word she’d said before, and a singular globule of light has shot from his finger. It was weaker than hers, and there was only one, and after a couple of seconds it blinked out, but Bren was delighted. He’d cast a spell. He’d  _ done magic _ . 

“There you are,” the witch had said, and she’d patted him on the shoulder. “You should keep practicing that. And do not lose that parchment.”

“I will practice every day,” Bren had said, as he’d folded the parchment up carefully and stuffed it inside his shirt, next to his skin where he could feel it and keep it safe. “And I will never lose it, I promise.”

“You’re a good lad,” the witch had said. “Remember that.”

The next day when Bren had returned to the tree under which the witch had been reading fortunes for nearly a month, she was gone. When he asked around, no one had seen her leave, or at least no one had cared enough to remember. 

* * *

Bren was twelve years old when he finally figured it out,  _ finally _ , after months and months of trying and reading and writing and trying and trying again, he could make a flame in his hand. The first time it worked he got so excited it immediately went out again. The second time it stayed, but he had to focus on it, focus really hard to make sure that the wind wouldn’t blow it out, or that his mind didn’t wander away from the fire. The third time, he showed it to his friends. Eadwulf had nodded, impressed, and raised his hands to the flame to feel its warmth. Astrid had looked at it for only half a second before demanding Bren would teach her how to do it, too, as he’d taught them both to create the little lights as well. 

A week later, a man had come to town, an older, human man with long grey hair and white and golden robes, a twinkle in his grey-blue eyes and a slight, amused smile on his lips. He’d come to visit the school - or what they called school, anyway. The children in town would spend their days in the barn next to Fraulein Schreiber’s house, where she taught them how to read and write, history, geography, and anything else she could precure books about in the capitol when she visited once in a while with the money precured from the parents of the children in her care. 

Bren, Astrid and Eadwulf were the oldest children who still spent their days with Fraulein Schreiber instead of working the fields with their parents, as most children would from age ten or eleven. The three of them were deemed gifted, and the Fraulein had agreed to spend more time on continuing their education the best she could with what little means she had. 

Bren and Astrid had been playing a game of chess in the back of the barn, Eadwulf watching and keeping time, when the old men had stepped into the barn. He’d exchanged a few words with the Fraulein, she’d nodded, and he’d sat down near the wall, pulled out a notebook and started writing in it, occasionally looking around the barn curiously. 

“Who’s that?” Astrid had whispered, eyes curious, calculating. 

“He’s probably from the city,” Eadwulf had replied, leaning closer to Bren and Astrid. “What do you think he’s writing down?”

“Let’s ask,” Bren had proposed, and he’d gotten up from his seat and walked over. “Hallo, my name is Bren.”

“Hallo Bren,” the man had said. “My name is Trent Ikithon.”

“My friends want to know what you’re writing. And I do, too.”

Trent Ikithon had smiled a little wider than before. “Well, aren’t you a curious bunch.” 

That evening, Bren had been practicing his flame cantrip, trying to make it bigger and brighter, trying to keep it going while he was distracted reading. He was sitting in the small hayshed next to his house, curled up in the hay with Frumpkin in his lap, holding his book in one hand, and fire in the other. The smell of smoke was sudden, heavy and terrifying, as Bren ripped his eyes away from the page and watched as some of the hay next to his hand had caught aflame. In a flash of panic, Bren jumped up and stepped on the flame repeatedly until he was sure all the fire had been extinguished. Suddenly he’d no longer felt like practicing, and he’d gone back inside, and to bed. 

He woke up not too much later.

The smell of smoke was in the air again, heavier now, so heavy it made Bren’s head spin and his eyes water. He opened his eyes and he could barely see, the entire room filled with thick black smoke. 

_ I put it out. _

The flames reached up the ladder, the heat already nearly unbearable, even though the fire hadn’t creeped up to the first floor entirely. 

Downstairs his mother screamed. Panic, pain. 

_ I put it out. _

“Bren! Bren! Wake up, Bren, bitte,  _ Bren!” _

Bren jumped out of his bed and raced to the ladder, trying to see down to the bottom floor, but all he saw was fire burning, roaring, reaching for him, and all he heard was his mothers screams as they quickly turned from panic to pain to nothing at all as the fire reached further up the ladder. 

_ I put it out, I swear I put it out.  _

A sudden flash of purple.

A hand on his arm. 

A sickening twisting in his guts.

Suddenly fresh air filled Bren’s lungs. A hand, still firmly wrapped around his arm, steadying him as he nearly collapsed trying to catch his breath, cough, wheeze, breathe,  _ just breathe, I’ve got you boy, I’ve got you _ . 

* * *

Bren was sixteen when he was on top of the world. He was confident, gifted, and well-liked. Master Ikithon had told him and his two best friends that the three of them were selected for a special program, something secret and important only meant for the most talented students at the Academy. They were to leave Rexxentrum in the morning the following day, so the three of them, Bren, Astrid and Eadwulf, had decided to visit the dancehall one more time that night, to celebrate. 

Tonight was the night he was going to kiss Astrid, Bren had decided. The idea had been in the back of his mind for months now, becoming more and more prominent every single day that passed, every single time he saw her. 

At first it had just been a fleeting thought. A what-if, a maybe. 

_ Oh, that was funny, what she just said.  _

_ Her lips are chapped from the cold.  _

_ She looks very handsome today. _

_ Wulf isn’t here, it’s just the two of us, I could - no, that’s stupid. _

_ Wait, what did she just say? I wasn’t paying attention. _

It was stupid. Bren didn’t  _ get  _ nervous. Not about anything, and definitely not about something as stupid as a kiss. He’d kissed people before, it wasn’t anything special in his opinion - sure, it was  _ nice,  _ but he wasn’t sure what all the fuss was really about. Or he hadn’t been, until he’d considered the possibility of kissing  _ Astrid. _

So there he was, standing in front of the small mirror in his dorm room, running a hand over his freshly shaven jaw, frowning at the small spot on his chin, and the one on the side of his nose. 

“You’re not going to get any prettier just looking at yourself,” Eadwulf complained. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, clearly tired of waiting.

“I’m not -” Bren started to protest, but he was hit in the side of the head with a sock before he could get anywhere. “Gross, Wulf, what the hell!”

“We should just go, Bren,” Eadwulf said. “Plus, would you rather be  _ late _ ?”

“We’ve still got twenty-three minutes to get there,” Bren said. 

Eadwulf sighed. “I hate when you do that. We’re going. We can get an ale before Astrid gets there. Gods know you need one.”

They were dancing. Dancing was easy, they’d done that many times. Astrid was a lot better at it than Bren was, she always had been, and it was easy now to allow her to take the lead as they spun around the dancefloor. She was smiling bright, cheeks flushed and hair tousled by their dance, and she looked more handsome than anyone Bren had ever seen. 

As one song started to fade into the next, Astrid manoeuvred them effortlessly to the edge of the floor. 

“Let’s go get some drinks,” she said.

“Wait,” Bren replied, still holding on to her hand. 

She looked at him questioningly. 

“I just - I was going to ask - ” Bren stammered, as his eyes drifted to her lips before snapping back up to hers. “Never mind.”

Astrid cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, still smiling. She suddenly pulled on his hand, dragging him back into her space until they were chest to chest. “So kiss me then,” she said. “Or was there something else you wanted to ask?”

Bren shook his head and she grinned, cupping his cheek with her free hand. Bren leaned down, closing the distance between them, his heart racing, his mind filled with only her, only Astrid, everything Astrid. 

Her lips were chapped but still soft somehow, pressed against his firmly, confidently, as she slipped her arms around his neck. Bren, finally regaining some confidence now that, yes, this was in fact happening, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. 

“Finally,” Astrid whispered against his lips. “Now I have  _ everything.”  _

* * *

Bren was twenty-one when his entire world shattered like glass. 

Bren rolled over in bed, stretching his limbs to find the space next to him empty. He blinked a couple of times as his eyes slowly got used to the darkness surrounding him. It was still night, then. Astrid was standing with her back to him, looking out the window, hands clasped behind her back. 

“What’s on your mind?” Bren asked, pushing himself up on his elbows. 

Astrid turned to face him. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Bren. Go back to sleep, I will join you in a moment.” 

Bren pushed himself up a little further, wincing as he put weight on his freshly bandaged forearms, pushing through the familiar sting. “I know you’re lying, Schatz.”

“I know you know,” Astrid said. “It’s not something I can discuss with you, however.”

Bren frowned. 

“It’s - I have something to discuss with master Ikithon,” Astrid said. “It’s been weighing on my mind, but I haven’t found the time to talk to him.”

“Go now,” Bren suggested. “The old man never sleeps, from what I gather. You may as well try if it’s causing you sleepless nights as well. Gods know we need our strength.”

Astrid looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and nodded. “You’re right, I should.” She walked over to the bed and put her hand on his cheek. “You should go back to sleep, though. You’re right, we need our strength. I won’t be gone long.”

Bren reached out and pulled her down for a quick kiss on the lips and she smiled again, more genuinely this time. 

“Go on then,” Bren said. 

He sank back into the pillows and watched as she walked around the bed, pulled a robe on over her nightgown and slipped through the door. The door closed behind her with a soft click and Bren stared at it for a while before sitting up again. Something wasn’t right. She never kept anything from him. She, Wulf and him, they shared  _ everything.  _ It was the three of them against the world, it always had been. 

He waited another minute or so, before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He shivered in the cool air, grabbed his robe and ever so carefully opened the door a couple of inches. The hallway was empty.

Bren slipped through the door and carefully closed it behind him. He walked carefully down the hall and up the stairs to the tower where master Ikithon’s chambers were, keeping an eye out for any guards that might be roaming the halls still. 

He reached the door to Ikithon’s office without running into anyone and hesitated for a moment. It felt wrong to listen in on Astrid’s private affairs. On the other hand, it felt wrong she was keeping things from him. He sighed and pressed his ear against the door.

“ - I was out there that night,” Astrid’s voice sounded slightly muffled through the wood. “I was going to sneak in through Bren’s window. I was out in the field and I saw you.” 

“And what exactly did you see, Astrid?” 

“Everything. I saw you walk up to their home and set it on fire. I saw you take a couple of steps back and watch it burn. I saw you  _ wait,  _ for minutes on end, as the screaming inside started and faded, and you did  _ nothing _ . And then, eventually, I watched you disappear and reappear within a matter of seconds, with Bren clutching to you, holding on for dear life.”

“And what does that  _ mean _ ?”

“It means you lied to him,” Astrid said. “It means  _ you  _ made him believe he’s responsible for his parents’ death, while you’re the one that killed them.” 

Bren was shaking. His whole body, ever muscle, tensed as he processed the information. His eyes blurred with tears, his mouth went dry, his breath shallowed. Emotions flooded his mind - anger, betrayal, rage, fear, heartbreak, rage, terror,  _ rage _ . He wanted to scream, push through the door, make them explain, make them confess, he wanted to  _ hurt _ them, but he was frozen, nailed to the ground with his ear to the door. 

“Everything he believes happened that night made him who he is,” Ikithon said. “It’s the reason he’s here.”

“It’s a lie.”

“For him to  _ stay  _ here, he has to keep believing that what happened that night was his fault,” Ikithon said. “You want him to stay, isn’t that right, Astrid?” 

“He wouldn’t leave us,” Astrid replied. 

“He isn’t like you, or Eadwulf. His loyalty lies with us, with _me_ , for saving him and accepting him after what he did to his parents. What do you think he’d do if he found out he did not start that fire? What do you think he’d do if he found out you knew about it all these years?”

Astrid didn’t reply for a moment, and Bren pressed his hand harder against the door, digging his fingers into the wood, hoping, praying for her to say something,  _ anything  _ that made sense to him. 

“You’re right, of course,” Astrid said. “I’ve kept your secret all these years. I can continue keeping it. I’m sorry, I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“We all have our feelings to contend with, child,” Ikithon said. “But we must remember we serve the greater good. Whatever it takes.” 

“Whatever it takes.” 

With those words, Bren snapped out of his frozen state and pushed through the door. The world seemed to slow.

Astrid turned where she was standing, face full of shock, while Ikithon sat up in his chair, seemingly hardly phazed by Bren’s sudden appearance. 

Bren felt the heat building under his skin as he raised his hand in his master’s direction, sparks dancing between his fingertips as realization dawned on Astrid’s face. 

“Bren, don’t!”

Fire shot out of Bren’s fingertips, sharp and angry, aimed straight for Ikithon’s face. It would’ve been a perfect hit, too, if Astrid hadn’t thrown herself in its path, and the last thing Bren saw was the flames bursting against her side before his vision turned to black. 

* * *

Wake up - potion - eat - sit - read - eat - walk - sit - eat - potion - bed - sleep - wake up - potion - eat - sit - read - eat - walk -  _ wait _ \- eat - potion - bed - sleep - wake up - potion - eat - sit - read - eat - walk - sit -  _ hold on -  _ eat - potion - bed - sleep - wake up - potion - eat - sit - read - eat - walk - sit - eat - potion - bed -  _ this isn’t right -  _ sleep - wake up -  _ potion? _ \- eat - sit - read - eat - walk - sit - eat -  _ what is this potion _ \- bed -  _ dream  _ \- wake up - potion - eat - sit - read -  _ remember _ \- eat - walk - sit - eat -  _ remember - don’t drink the potion _ \- bed - sleep -  _ dream -  _ wake up -  _ remember!  _

The first memories were soft and slow, filled with fog and shadow, coated with that edge of surrealism dreams have. But as time went on - days? weeks? months? - they became heavier, clearer, brighter. They came in waves, crushing, nauseating waves that were almost impossible to hide, but he  _ had  _ to. If they figured out he was remembering things, they’d put an end to it. Or  _ him _ . 

As the memories came, so came the plan. He had to run. He had to run soon, as fast and as far as he could. Somewhere he’d be hard to track, somewhere that would be hard for them to get to, so he’d have  _ time _ . Somewhere that would work against them, somewhere -  _ somewhere like Xhorhas.  _

* * *

“I killed three guards to get out,” Caleb said into his empty cup. “I still don’t remember most of my time at the Sanatorium, it’s all just a blur. It took me a while after to figure out how long I’d even been there.”

“How did you get into the dunamancy program here?” the Shadowhand asked. “You escaped mere months ago, admission takes at least a year.”

Caleb shrugged. “I may not have finished my - by lack of a better word - education, but I was trained for five years specifically for infiltration. It’s not hard to get your name on a list. As I’m sure it won’t be hard for you to get it  _ off  _ of it.”

“Why would I do that?” 

Caleb looked at the drow for a moment, trying to read his intent, but found it hard to discern any type of motive. He turned to Jester, who was still holding his hand under the table.

“I understand if you all don’t want to be my friends anymore,” he said quietly. 

Jester frowned. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

“I’ve done quite terrible things,” Caleb said. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nott said.

“I’ve killed people.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Beau repeated. 

Caleb sighed. “Being my friend isn’t safe.”

“I don’t care,” Jester said. “Being friends means sticking together, not just when things are good, but when things are bad, too, you know? So we’re with you. Right, guys?” 

There was a chorus of agreement around the table, and Caleb couldn’t help a small smile.

“I don’t deserve this,” he said. 

Jester squeezed his hand. “You do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfewwww it took me a while to get this chapter together. Not gonna lie, it was hard to write. I hope I did right by the canon, considering I had to change some stuff around to make it fit this story. 
> 
> Also posting this in relation to the current storyline is a bit odd but that's just a weird coincidence? 
> 
> As always I'd really love to hear your thoughts in the comments, or come yell at me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/isacosplay) or [tumblr](http://mskarinamay.tumblr.com).
> 
> Love to see you for the next one!
> 
> -X


End file.
